My Walk With The Stranger

My name via this blog is Livey.



I possess several names, according to my mood. How I’m feeling. How I’m thinking. How I’m living.

No matter the name. No matter the moniker.

We all walk with a stranger.

I met the stranger in high school. But, my gut tells me we met before. Maybe in elementary school. Maybe in the womb. Maybe in the Cosmos. I don’t know.

Furthermore, what’s hilarious about the stranger is that I know her. Our paths constantly cross. We share a symphony of absurdity linking us into a symbiotic relationship that differs from other relationship in its spectrum.

She laughs at my jokes.

She cries at my pain.

She doubts my plans.

She pushes envelopes I need to push.

She mocks projects unfinished or newborn.

She judges my unaccomplished actions.

When I’m alone, she sings to me, a seductive chanteuse forging equal jealousy in every angel or harlot that dares calls themselves so.

Despite it all, with the exception of The Almighty, she never leaves.

I’m thankful, oddly, in her loyalty while pleading for space. What would I be without her? I’ll never know. She can’t leave. She’s trapped in a gilded cage as she holds mine over my head.

…begging for the same tender mercies

she refuses me.

Some people see her visitations in a rapid cycle.

Some see them every few months or weeks even.

Some know her by I.

Some know her II.

No matter what she labels herself, she’s here to stay, and with this blog, I will continue to write as she holds the pen or taps the keys.

We’re in this thing called life together.

Whether we like it or not.


Author: Crafty Scribbles

Lover of Words. Mother. Teacher. Traveler. Writer. Bionic woman against ignorance. Finding the balance between words and reality. M.Ed. built to school you.

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