Nothing to do with wolves actually

I recently started reading 'Women Who Run With The Wolves' and it made me think (as any book should, no matter its actual merits, this or that - if you're 'whole' enough you can absorb, let's say, what is needed from the material and not focus on the small parts that you disagree with *that's what she said*) about my life as a grown-up, a woman, a girl, a girl-child that I used to be. 

So I looked at the album of my childhood pictures and had some retrospective epiphanies - my past self revealed what it had learnt a long time ago, but kept hidden. 

Before it is noted - yes, I've been regressing in a way recently, 'walked down the memory lane' way too often, used the word 'retrospect' too often and in general been too contemplative. It is necessary for self-reflection (a word that is incredibly overused; if I had Pinterest, it would be the only thing 'pinned' there and I would salute myself for being a complete dickhead), I tell ya'! 

Now, where were we?

Here's the defining moment that answers the question of why I'm fascinated with Gollum. 

Here is the photographic evidence of acceptance that sometimes you're just too little to get up on the tree with 'the big kids'. I'm walking away crying. 

The moment you realise that you'll never be the princess in any story - whether it's real or it's play-acting. I'd like to think I've come to terms with that. 

And, lastly, there will be days that your house is a mess and you don't want to get dressed in the morning or brush your hair. This child says: 'I ain't gettin' stuff done today. Deal with it.' Am I allowed to listen to my little self? 

I've succeeded in amusing myself. 

And will return with relevant thoughts about the book next time. 

Goodnight xx