Who am I to say that these words accurately portray the tale I’ve found task to relay? Hand off the baton smartly lest the race be lost, relegated to history as such. Fuckin’ loser. Cry, for you’ve earned the opportunity through botched exchange. Lust not for relief, as victory after the what if’s will remain indefinitely elusive.
Ha, I have deceived you! There is no story to tell. Only one to ultimately understand, if comprehension can be tolerated by id. Faith in words is limited to definition relative to their pupil’s experiences amid. Liberate yourself momentarily from the dictionary app for want to feel real substitute. Participate. Do not fret and you will prove correct.
And so we will agree in the everything that is for want of the banal, enriched in the diversity of newly assumed fact. Submission to the temptation to conform will allow for the trite, a normalcy unspoken as distraught. The thoughts that you fail to transcribe are the adage that can never be written, a success absent indoctrination. Freedom remains confined, because otherwise it is but a word.
