Yeah, I'm angry. Sure, I don't have any drawings up yet, but I have a right to write in this blog, don't I? In my numb hyper depression faze I've had recently, I've forgotten how to be mad, perfect little thing I am. But now, when 'he', my father figure, gained back some of my trust. I reach for his wallet, heck I'll say this, no one really knows me, and he pulls it back... afraid.

My father recently cheated on my mother on numerous occasions, me being born and raised in a perfect loving Christian home, was very accepting. Heck, I was numb with the death of acceptence! This was going on for 5 years, after all.

I couldn't help but hope though, like a little child holding out for that impossible dream of a flying pony, or rocket bike. I still love me dad, and he's not a terrible person at all! Just blinded by the illusion of unfufilled hopes, and not seeing the good that's happening around him.

Never forget the dreams you started with, but live with the dreams that you've accomplished and that have yet to come. The higher the moutain, the higher the climb, the greater the sense of the tip.

Yet here was my amazing father, saying: "Don't look in there?" He was calm, collected, but... off...
"Why?" Curiousty took over me, and that killed the cat. But didn't satisfaction bring it back?

Perhaps not.

"It's a suprise." The lie sneaked through his teeth, and yet I could tell it was a little white truth. White that was not so pure.
"What is it? Is it good or bad?" My childhood stare became monotone.

You need to understand that despite being able to tell great stories, Nuuoa Eclaire is completly terrible at lying. Only at smiling, and hoping not to get caught.

"You can determine that when you're older." With that he snatched the wallet from my hands and I heard the faint rustle of plastic going into his pocket.

I have a great expansion of imagination, and let me tell you, you could've had the intelligence of a lump of dung to figure this one out.

Any guesses?

That is the breaking of trust.