My Little Phony

Lately I’ve been going through a phase of “nothing is how it seems.” I’m misunderstood more often than not. I’m like a dark gray My Little Pony, an “ironic” knock-off with a skull and crossbones on its butt (quirky and sweet, yet mysterious and a little badass). Perhaps these misunderstandings are why The Illusionist resonated with me so deeply the other night – it was so reaffirming to see that the illusion, the misunderstanding, worked out in a way that was meant to be; not in the train-wreck that seems to be my life as of late.

Or perhaps that was just Edward Norton resonating with me.

Whatever. There was a message, and I got it. The message was that there is hope.

Even though I’m still single. Dammit.