Step To Pretend

So apparently today is Happy Pretending Day (or at least, according to Twitter since its trending), but then I guess there is not a need for such a day as most of us are all pretending to be somebody else anyway. If I have my way, the only thing which begets a Day specially for it has to be something significant, such as anniversaries (birthdays, death, etc) and festivals (traditional ones like Hari Raya or purely celebrations like Mardi Gras). Not your Mothers'/Fathers'/Valentines'/Teachers' Day which I think they should be honoured and respected everyday. And the fact that chocolate prices soar sky high nearing those days makes me unhappy as I really love chocolate. ):O

Btw there's this convenience store near my house which has clearance sale (k, actually its forever clearing out so yeah) and they sell like Kinder Buenos at six for $5! I will buy it without fail and eat one for breakfast.

And intend to buy smoked salmon for work but guess not~ Hypermarket's probably closed anyway.

Pretending is something we all do subconsciously (and sometimes consciously) in our vain attempt to better ourselves by emulating a certain niche that we diverge or converge so as to please the masses. Yet in this miasma of ley lines superseding each other for glory, some transcends planes. The primordials, titans, the pantheon and mere mortals, think of Super Mario swelling after eating weed and magic mushrooms only to shrink to a little midget by touching a mere tortoise.

And even now, in this everlasting winter solstice, the coyotes revel in the darkness, howling in visceral elation. Children of Fama pranced around Discordia's fields, traitorous apples masquerading as Idunn's.

Their masks may hide their faces, but can't stopper putrid stench. The white rose on their lapels hide, but step close enough, its toxic fumes burn. Warning: Olfactory may be inflamed if stand too close to the conflagration. Symptoms often appeared too late.

So close those fragile windows to your atria, before the butchers in florist's pinafore stab you with their knives in floral bouquets.

On a lighter note: