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the fool from the deck.
every little thing is a small footprint on something. a trail of paw prints in the snow. i've been talking in code for so long that everything becomes abstract at the edges and focus gets lost. i spin a web of lies so well that the lies become truth. memories are slightly warped, the sacred heart becomes crystallised and history is bent beyond recognition. this is how i have lived for so long; the sacrifices needed to keep the truth at bay, to just keep things moving forwards. of course, the day comes when you can't live like that, because life is so much more and deserves so much more than just simply moving forwards. i pressed a switch from self harm to self denial, a greater harm than physicality allows i guess. to repair takes courage and i've never been very brave, but being aware to what i've done is a good start i guess. it's hard to be open when i've been closed for so so long. the words fade as the snow falls and i wonder what's next.


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