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Summary
Sitting against the wall of ice I made in my not so little outburst, I grabbed at the hem of my baggy sweatshirt, pulling it over my knees, which sit tight against my chest, so that my entire body is engulfed in the soft fabric. It’s not like it matters that a huge ice wall suddenly appeared, who even lives in Antarctica anyway? I leaned my head against the long staff in my hand, breathing out a long sigh. It’s not like I didn’t see this coming, I have no right to be upset.
I never have any right to be upset, never, I’m the Guardian of Fun not the Guardian of being a pathetic little boy too weak to not tear up for every little thing in the world. I’m three hundred years old I should have learned, no I did learn and yet my eyes can’t get the message that crying is a no go.
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