Ever since I was a child, I don’t enjoy drinking water.
People might find it surprising but for me, instead of the taste of purity of nothingness, the only thing my tongue picks up from it is bitterness.
You can say that because my tongue is sensitive for water distillation taste, or after my dad, I have a unnaturally high temperature which made me a hothead girl. I don’t know, but I don’t like to drink pure water. I hate milk for their rich tastes; they made me feel like my throat itself is clogged, unless it’s good milk. I hate carrot for their taste which remind me of stupidity, don’t ask me why, but I feel a light headache and an image of the stupid clown appear in my mind. However, I’m fine with cooked spinach even for their bitterness and blood taste doesn’t scare me at all. Yes, blood.
You might think that I’m disgusting or I’m just some kind of vampire wannabe but in fact, I’m just not, that’s just one of my favorite food in my childhood.
For every big party, grandmother will order duck blood and meat from a nearby restaurant along with other food but the only thing I look forward to was the blood.
As an opposite for my twin cousin/sis, who is scared of blood, I’m somehow attracting to it, rather than purify my stomach with plain and bitter water, rather be the witch who poison Snow White with her apple than being a princess. Also, my dislike for the little mermaid is also a kind of complexity.
Quite different from ordinary, right?
I didn’t want to be like that before but I realized how I have to embrace it, same with finding enjoyment with it. The little girl who shouted: “I’m normal” was now a witch who denied that word.
Once the truth was learned, it cannot be forgotten…
The witch of the future and the past are different and the same
The witch of the present has locked them into the sea of possibilities
For the data she collects will reopen them one day
The path toward the Land is still open
Get on her feet walking, a little witch
Won’t look back to show that sad smile…
PS : Just a writting with no proper end or beginning, no fixed subject…kind of like a self reflection