Why do I celebrate happy? Because I know the dark. I know its words and whispers and fetid breath. But I also know the light. Maybe I see it a little bit brighter because I know what it contrasts so sharply against.
I think I’m good looking. I’m not drop dead gorgeous or tall and leggy, and I don’t ooze sex appeal. But, I’m good looking and I’m small – two components the world has harmfully prescribed to females for a long time. A friendly disposition and blonde hair complete the walls of my societal pigeon hole.