So, yeah. Writing. LJ-Idol.
an explanation of why the 6-ft purple bunny is looking at you funny, holding a gun to your head, and making you do this, even though you don't want to, and you're scared
The six-foot purple bunny? She's my bitch. She thinks she has the upper hand (paw?) on me, and I let her think that. It gives her room to grow, and a little bit of a leash to run on.
I let her think she can escape. A little bit at a time. It gives her hope. She tries, and almost makes it.
A little bit farther every time.
She always fails. It's a part of her nature. Really, a bunny doesn't have the opposable appendages to actually pull the trigger, but that she's actually aiming it at my head this time is a step up from last time.
I'm proud of her.
She will collapse in a bit, crying, and needing me to punish her for what she has done. And this time, the punishment needs to be severe, loving.
One of these times, she will actually kill me.
Maybe by then she'll be able to survive without me.
