Who are you? Who, who, who, who?
I feel like I’m in WoW hibernation or something. Unless I happen to run into someone in a cave, there’s not a lot to talk about right now. I think … you know something that really bothers me? When I was young people would call me “hun.” Then I became “ma’am.” NOW I’M HUN AGAIN! I am not your hun, in fact I’m a big curmudgeon who slaughters beasts and evil doers on a daily basis. BY THE HUNDREDS! So unless you mean the Attila kind of hun, I’m not one.
Anyway … so I really, really hate mornings. I have to spend an extended period of time looking directly at my face which is something I try to avoid at all costs. If I don’t see me, my mental image of me is stuck somewhere around thirty-two. Once I put my contacts in, it’s DAMN! WHO DID THIS! WHO IS RESPONSIBLE! Who the hell trapped me in here! LET ME OUT!
As often happens I thought about my characters. I know they’re all me but they’ve developed very distinct personalities without any conscious effort on my part. Cat the Druid is my favorite, she’s kind and silly and spends most of her time playing with her pets and trying to get exalted with everybody. She wants to be liked. I’m not really Cat.
Cim the Warlock is me in a permanent bad mood. All she wants to do is kill every damn thing that doesn’t kill her first. Again, me sometimes. Usually after spending hours trying to talk to a human representative of a company on the phone. But not really me.
Some of my characters are cheeky, some are shy but it occurred to me that the closest match is Sasche the Warlock.
What was she like before … does it haunt her? Through no fault of her own, whatever self she remembers is trapped inside her Forsaken body. Does she avoid mirrors too? She’s pretty quiet … whatever thoughts of the past she has, she doesn’t share but I can’t help but wonder what she was like before.
I felt bad for feeling sorry for myself because Sasche has it way worse than I do. Nevertheless, I have taken to wearing my Helm of the Fierce Bison for … you know … fortitude. Just in case I encounter a mirror. SHIT! WHO’S … oh … it’s me. I can’t even imagine how Sasche feels.