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Not all grarrls roar.
And we don't all stomp around looking for smaller neopets to harm or humiliate.
Some of us prefer a quieter life, a life of pondering and quiet reflection about our lot in life. I am one of those grarrls.
My name is utahraptor, but you can call me Utah. Or meh, accompanied by a shrug of the shoulders. But more likely, you won't call me at all. Because people don't.
Im told the melancholy bring lonliness upon themselves by not crumbling to the pressure to be falsely happy day by day, week by week, year by year. If thats so, then which is worse? Living a life of apparent joy and brightness which is deeply synthetic, yet having friends who love you for it, or going through life as a miserable old beast that no-one can stand to be around but being true to yoursef?
Both sound equally as awful to me.
But, since one must chose, the latter won.
I can't be totally lacking in friends, right? Well, no, not if you count my family, which I don't because they have to like me. It's one of those unwritten rules of life.
But of my family, who can I say truely lifts me up to feel more than I do right now?
Iowa? Hardly. He ties with me for gloomy pet of the year award, perhaps being slighty better off than myself due to his love of books. Something in his life gives him pleasure. Nothing in mine has of yet.
Sic? He hates the melancholy air that hangs over our house and his doing his best to obliterate it with his own angry air. Again, I don't know which I prefer to live under; the granite grey cloud of sadness or the red smokey cloud of anger.
Two is the closest thing in my house to a merry soul, and even he seems to have a permanent grey cloud following him about. No, not a cirrus.
My typical day would consist of me waking up from a sleep that was likely regularly interrupted by nightmares and visions, to walls as grey as I am. I like to sleep in a cave, thankyou very much. The bitter cold ensures no-one will try and bother me in there. If I could, I'd sleep all day, but thats counterproductive to trying to make yourself feel happy.
So I go to the living room. Here, I'll usually find Iowa reading something deep and complicated without bothering to look up to acknowledge my arrival. Sic will often be out, and no-one knows where he goes, but the important thing is that he does. If he didn't, the gloom would be joined by sarcasm and snideyness. Two is the only one likely to bother to greet me, and even then he will do so in a tone that suggests he'd rather be greeting anyone BUT me.
So thats my life for you. Just imagine that, day after day, year after year, and you'll see why I don't like to stomp about and
shout. Theres nothing to shout about.
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