Once upon a time, there was a Sky Soldier.
He was tall and had dark hair, and his dark eyes could see all the way over the seas. He came from the country of the daybreak, and like all sky soldiers, he was an honorable, brave man, a strong warrior, learned philosopher, and gentleman.
One day, the young sky soldier was flying over the great blue ocean towards the green lands of the sun. He was marveling at the blueness of the water, so perfect, like the finest silk of his country, when he saw something sparkling-
Okay, maybe I need to clarify some things before I start my story.
First of all, the Sky Soldier is not a he. Actually he is a She. And very much aware of it, as the uterus kindly reminds her every month and she fills in forms by clicking on "female" when choosing gender.
Also, she is not tall at all. More like average. Okay a little bellow average. Fuck off.
And the eye colour is up for debate. Not really that dark at all. Then again they are not light and bright either.
Let's not even talk about where she came from.
Okay the truth is...I am the Sky Soldier.
Yes. It is true, indeed.
And I cannot see all the way over the seas, if anything, I am a little short sighted.
So now you ask, what is a Sky Soldier? Well, my darlings. Take a seat.
(I suggest you are not under the influences of psychotropic drugs, alcohol, or any other mind-altering substances as I proceed with my explanation, because this rabbit hole has way too many detours and your guide is not reliable at all. Trust me, I know me all my life.)
So, a Sky Soldier is the lovechild of a too-hot spring night, when allergies ran amok and the booze was plenty, and a mind exhibiting some very interesting after-effects of recreational drug use in days not so long past. To put it plainly, I was bored and my mp3 had ran out of battery and I decided to listen to one of the voices in my head as she whispered to me charming tales of who I could be if I was a story told by Antoine DeSaint-Exupery on acid. This one is the Sky Soldier, a mildly delusional fictional (or not, who's to say?) character that lives life as I do but has a completely different view of that every day shit. Whereas the rocker me only cares about telling people to fuck off and getting a fix of my favourite substance of choice (quadruple iced espresso these days), and the goth me likes to lock herself up inside and read books listening to music even I find disturbing, and the gypsy me argues with the rational me about what sort of disease am I going to catch if I walk around barefoot and then get into bed without showering, the Sky Soldier hovers around, having weird conversations with the Rabbit and the Prince about the meaning of life, why underwear is irrational, and anyway just think of this entry high on caffeine and possibly the neighbor's weed. God I love that neighbor and his habbit of smoking with the windows wide open.
Each and every one of us has different stories to tell. You don't have to be sharing one delusional brain with many people in order to have different views on the same matter, or multiple hobbies and tastes that do not quite overlap, but rather, cancel each other. You could be a responsible, modestly dressed english tutor, whose trousers and buttoned up shirts serve to cover up permanent art etched on her skin by means of a mechanically driven needle. You could be a punk who can barely have a civil conversation with anyone who likes to embroider pillows whenever the time is available. Or you could be a bookworm who somehow moonlights as a rock musician in seedy pubs in that weird part of town that is always bursting with life and herpes. Or, in my case, you could be all those at the same time, thus earning your qualification as a Sky Soldier.
I have the shortest attention span and I do not remember what I was going to say next.
He was tall and had dark hair, and his dark eyes could see all the way over the seas. He came from the country of the daybreak, and like all sky soldiers, he was an honorable, brave man, a strong warrior, learned philosopher, and gentleman.
One day, the young sky soldier was flying over the great blue ocean towards the green lands of the sun. He was marveling at the blueness of the water, so perfect, like the finest silk of his country, when he saw something sparkling-
Okay, maybe I need to clarify some things before I start my story.
First of all, the Sky Soldier is not a he. Actually he is a She. And very much aware of it, as the uterus kindly reminds her every month and she fills in forms by clicking on "female" when choosing gender.
Also, she is not tall at all. More like average. Okay a little bellow average. Fuck off.
And the eye colour is up for debate. Not really that dark at all. Then again they are not light and bright either.
Let's not even talk about where she came from.
Okay the truth is...I am the Sky Soldier.
Yes. It is true, indeed.
And I cannot see all the way over the seas, if anything, I am a little short sighted.
So now you ask, what is a Sky Soldier? Well, my darlings. Take a seat.
(I suggest you are not under the influences of psychotropic drugs, alcohol, or any other mind-altering substances as I proceed with my explanation, because this rabbit hole has way too many detours and your guide is not reliable at all. Trust me, I know me all my life.)
So, a Sky Soldier is the lovechild of a too-hot spring night, when allergies ran amok and the booze was plenty, and a mind exhibiting some very interesting after-effects of recreational drug use in days not so long past. To put it plainly, I was bored and my mp3 had ran out of battery and I decided to listen to one of the voices in my head as she whispered to me charming tales of who I could be if I was a story told by Antoine DeSaint-Exupery on acid. This one is the Sky Soldier, a mildly delusional fictional (or not, who's to say?) character that lives life as I do but has a completely different view of that every day shit. Whereas the rocker me only cares about telling people to fuck off and getting a fix of my favourite substance of choice (quadruple iced espresso these days), and the goth me likes to lock herself up inside and read books listening to music even I find disturbing, and the gypsy me argues with the rational me about what sort of disease am I going to catch if I walk around barefoot and then get into bed without showering, the Sky Soldier hovers around, having weird conversations with the Rabbit and the Prince about the meaning of life, why underwear is irrational, and anyway just think of this entry high on caffeine and possibly the neighbor's weed. God I love that neighbor and his habbit of smoking with the windows wide open.
Each and every one of us has different stories to tell. You don't have to be sharing one delusional brain with many people in order to have different views on the same matter, or multiple hobbies and tastes that do not quite overlap, but rather, cancel each other. You could be a responsible, modestly dressed english tutor, whose trousers and buttoned up shirts serve to cover up permanent art etched on her skin by means of a mechanically driven needle. You could be a punk who can barely have a civil conversation with anyone who likes to embroider pillows whenever the time is available. Or you could be a bookworm who somehow moonlights as a rock musician in seedy pubs in that weird part of town that is always bursting with life and herpes. Or, in my case, you could be all those at the same time, thus earning your qualification as a Sky Soldier.
I have the shortest attention span and I do not remember what I was going to say next.
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