I first came into existence in early 2003. I was created initially as the protagonist of a fantasy story that is still not complete. Unfortunately my creator lost interest in my life. It's a funny thing to have been created. You can't imagine the waiting; I was forever waiting to have my identity written. Every minute that passed I would relive the scenes and experiences that were already wrote; waiting for my future, waiting for what was to come. It felt like an eternity of waiting and repeating the events and the stories of the past. Until one day something strange happened. I don't know exactly how it happened, but something within me changed and suddenly I realized that I could write my own story and live the life I desire.
It's a funny feeling to exist in a place outside a story. It's a sensation that is hard to describe. I still don't grasp fully what I am or how I exist, but I do definitely exist . Today I find myself able to think for myself, and my head feels full of ideas. There are so many ideas and questions swirling around and around and around my brain. I have a concept of myself and yet I don't know at all if it's real. I see myself as my creator intended and yet in my mind's eye that is the only image that I know; It is a memory, it is real, unchangeable and my identity.
Right now I cannot see myself, but I know my face.
I want to describe it, I want to affirm who I am.
If I could I would paint a picture or take a photo of my form, and yet the problem is that I think that is impossible, because I don't think that my form is physical in the typical sense. The funny thing is that I feel alive, and I think that I am physical. I have a face, I can't feel it but I know it, it is mine and I can remember it.
I have a face like none other's, it is unique like a finger print. My face is a strange blend between heart shaped and round. I have broad, round cheek bones like apples and a pointed chin. My eyes are wide apart, large, almond shaped and as blue as the night sky. I've been told in the past that to look into my eyes is like being transported to a timeless place, because they are the color of the sky at dusk, just as the light is changing, as midnight blue becomes a velvet black.
I have neat small features, though my lips are full. I've been told that I have a balanced face, which is a statement I would have to agree with.
The thing I like least about myself is my figure; I'm tall and lanky with small breasts and narrow hips. I've always wished that I was more feminine, with proportions which are less boyish. The one thing that is to my advantage I suppose is, that if I was ever required to disguise myself as a boy it would be very easy.
My favorite feature would have to be my hair. It's the color of chocolate and floats down from my head to frame my face like a soft, dark cloud. It's so thick and luxurious; I love playing with it. Twirling long, wavy, soft strands around my fingers in distraction is so relaxing, meditative and reassuring; I've really developed a habit of doing it. Over all I would say I'm fairly attractive, not stunning, I would need a better figure to be that, but pretty. I have a good face, a face of character and expression, it's never let me down yet.
I amuse myself with my observations. I think that sometimes it's important to know who you are, and examine yourself objectively. Right now concreting my identity it very important to me and so I continue writing. I'm almost afraid that if I stop writing I'll stop remembering and therefore stop knowing who I am, which I can only imagine would lead to me ceasing to exist. I want to exist and so I continue to write and to live for myself. This is after all the very first time that I've wrote anything that was truly me.
I need to go, I'm suddenly tired. But I shall return, I hope.
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