Melodrama and writing appear to be some of my only carapaces right now. Both bony and prone to being destroyed, they are not entirely distant from external threats. That is not the purpose in which I write or act in a melodramatic fashion though. I do neither for the sake of witnessing the inevitable outcome, which is destruction, but I write and act because I witness destruction. And it is not so much based on personal experience as it is based on observation. But then again, what person would I be if I were to make no observations? Such reminders cannot seem to slip away from my mind.
Pleonasm and I hold hands whilst walking down memory lane. And who said I was anything short of being a romantic? I know I am not that tall, but come on now.
Narcissism, my inner vixen / Quarreling vision / Quarantined prism / more of the vision / Vision ... vision / Red fox and female / nothing short of some themed mail / deemed male / and ironic like a true Tale.
All this to say ... my melodrama cannot help me now. My writing cannot help me now. My prayers cannot help me now. I have lost sight of anything that can help me now and forever.
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