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No one ever comes here, so I figgure... why not write something and see if someone notices late next year, and bring me tea and scones. I am so cold, in warmth of body, and warmth of emotion right now. I tell you teuly, there is a part of me that is anti-social, contradicted most of the time by the supposed warm gushy part of me, and therefore I am "normal". See I could be a pychologist. I think as the years pass it is both easier and harder to live without other people in one's life. I can almost see myself cutting them out of my life like paper dolls. Everyone excpet imediate family, they are glued to me in a way no one and nothig else is... they can always find me, or so it seems. The hour grows late, and the fingers ever become more frozen. Soon they will call in someone to revive my ice cold heart, frozen to the core... or somethihg eloquent like that. Shivers course through my body, I am not numb yet, but soon I fear I shall be. Character scketches of a deranged mind. A memory frozen in time.- October |
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