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Always so much to say, but often lacking the appropriate time, words, arena, or audience. So notions, thoughts, theories, feelings, sentiments, confessions, ideas, hopes, fears and truths that are so much less dangerous, less powerful, when left in mental bondage, captured and entangled in the confines of the ever-broadening, (yet, strangely suffocating in its perpetuate state of maximum capacity) mind. So errors that I've found and have circled in red in the rough(est) draft of life, but I refuse, even still, to go back and edit it to pardon it, excuse it, fix it with a band-aid with simple words, simple utterances of reality, of fact, of opinion, of emotion New skin can't move the scar. The mind moves too fast for emotions to keep up: a saving too wonderful to praise. Push it aside as a laugh beats a tear to the punch. Laughter life's sole redemption, more often than not. Laughter my favorite murmur of defeat. It is never an option to tell you what is on my mind. History repeats itself, but you cannot fool me twice. To have you toss salt when I showed you how deep the wound was it cannot happen twice, and therefore, it is never an option to tell you what is on my mind history repeats itself, while the future remains unstated altogether. Who would be foolish enough to let a past that did not want them sabotage a beckoning future? "Not I," said the girl, glancing over her shoulder for a second too. is a dangerous thing an infection of the mind that eats away at reality but just the gray matter. Jet black and stark white were always my forte my comfort. The greater the polarity the lesser the confusion. The lesser the confusion the greater disillusion. So, you, I must demand the shades of gray. I need them. Avoiding them is not an option, as it is nothing more than a lie. A destructive truth always trumps a mollifying lie. But self-destruction doesn't lie comfortably across the heart. It is never an option to tell you that I you. That your imperfections make you perfect. That's not for you to know, to hear, to wonder, or suspect. Who are you to know the elusive truth? It isn't yours to conjecture. It isn't yours, because when it was, you did not. So now it is mine, but only in theory, as most elusive things tend to be. And it is never an option to tell you, until history repeats itself. im down for a good time are u females only
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