The Sanguine has in many ways lived being allergic to shopping lists, to-do lists, check-lists, instruction manuals of any kind. She breaks out in mumps and itches all over, whilst rolling around the floor whining and whimpering. Atlas, it really all boils down to an almost childish fear that whatever is written in words are carved in stone in the heavens, open to ridicule by less well meaning people who stumble upon it, sabotaged by even lesser well meaning people, or inviting perhaps a stroke of bad luck to spoil it all. She used to believe, in her inner being, that there was this cosmic clown going around just to make sure the innocent wishes of children would not be fulfilled so he could jeer and chuckle in their faces. And believing in the lie that what she want she would never get, she resorted to not thinking about what she wanted, whilst placing her best bet in the elusive gift of all called serendipity, where she can effortlessly stumble upon her heart's desire when she's not looking.
Atlas! the journey saw her stumbling into potholes and ditches when she refuses to look in the corners of her heart. detours and merry-go-rounds set her thinking once again, that perhaps in trying to blind the imaginary cosmic clown, she was perhaps only blinding herself. but of course, bad habits take a long time to completely release their grip on her Sanguine life. and she continues to be led by a deliberate purposelessness disguised in the cloak of openness.
but then she remembered that she is after all a princess. A princess of the Most High, that is. Why choose to believe in the curse of the cosmic clown rather than all the power and authority she wields on account of her birthright? With a renewed courage of conviction, she decides to petition the Father with regards to her man of inner and outer strength.
He must exist somewhere, not just in the imaginary landscape where only unicorns live, ya?