Survey the state of your soul

Three cheers for the jeers, won and lost, best of one, carousel.

When the inhibitions start bursting into flames, the only reprieve is to lock one's self into a deeper melancholy. It is easier to accept the reticence as foreordained, but progress is not. Or maybe it is. The realisation dawns upon me quicker than a mile high excursion. The upcoming sojourn is a wobbling failure already, even before it has launched, and the best way to accept the inevitable doomsay is with a smile on my face.

No expectation. No regrets.

My dearest friend, do not go gentle into that good night. You still are my greatest love, even when no one else sees you for who you are. I am the other love to come and comfort you, to remind you, to be your only ally against any and every single thing bogging you down. I am yours now as you are mine. In the event of some great tragedy, I will be there. In the event of a great calamity, I will be there. In the event of a cosmic heartbreak, I will be there. And there will come a morrow when my other senses finally find you, and when it does, my love, by then, will be multiplied tenfold.

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