First time I saw her was at a US bank in northern California. Had on a long, colorful dress, all patchy-like. Different colored sleeves and such. It wasn't really her you know? But it caught my eye as strange she’d put something like that on. She's always doing something like that. Something curious that pops me out of whatever head I’m in and makes me look at her. Didn't go talking to that woman with the colorful dress, sometimes I wish I had, but at this point I know she would've been gone by the time I said hello or excuse me or what have you.

She ain't always like that though, sometimes its got nothing to do with what she's wearing or doing. Another time, we passed each other at a grocery store and I felt her look back at me. Past stripped away, I know nothing, got me good and ready to not be distracted by that inner glow, just a pure, comfortable radiance emanating from just below the diaphragm; then snap, goodbye. That inner glow, it lasts a lifetime, but by the time I’ve turned around to get a good look and see if she’s there, there’s nobody. And you can’t rightly go hunting down a girl what passed you by in the snack isle of a Walmart in the middle of nowhere Midwest. Even though it was that same woman back at the bank in California and you know it down to your very soul.

Thing is, she definitely wasn’t in the same body. Got another look at her - the Walmart gal- one more, and when we made eye contact, that familiar feeling struck like lighting, through us both it looked like actually. Course, she might've been shocked at seeing me again and that’s all was going on in her meat brain. But she was still in there, and I felt it. After that, himmed and hawed around, buying a couple more things just to waste time trying to see her one last time, but after that bolt of lightning, I knew she wasn’t in the area any longer. Felt bad for the woman at the store, if she did think I’d been following her. Anyways…

Then again in Chicago. Years later in fact. I’m walking with my good pal K——, and some disturbance in the air whizzes by. I can see those, disturbances in the ether of life. I seen messages whiz into a phone, flash of a message being sent to my computer, someone sending a heavy text, things like that. Don’t really think this was one of those though, she must’ve thrown something to get a good look at my good side, left side of my face. I wasn’t really in a position of life to be able to encounter her full yet, but I think that was the most present she’d ever been in someone’s body since I felt her glow as we passed, and as soon as I noticed her and turned around to see if I could catch a glimpse of her true form, she was out of there, just a regular person walking down the sidewalk.

Sometimes wonder if she's a witch. Got my spiritual defenses up though, had 'em trained as I was brought up, I've recognized evil auras before. Not anything like her, not at all. Even have had my suspicions that she's trying to cloak her evil with that radiance, but after we met by accident, she left no doubts in my mind of the pureness she has to be; zero percent evil. I was at a party somewhere 'round that Midwest nowhere town; it was a goodbye party since I was leaving and all, wanted one last get together with all the people I love most. So a friend of mine, friend in person course, but mostly in soul, gathered up some of her friends, and rented one of them air b and b's so we could throw down and have a bit of a party. Well, the night got going as they do and after everyone was all good and buzzed and a little coked up, we were all in the conversational portion of feeling good at a party. So I'm sitting with my conversation partner talking about God-knows-what and Snap! she lands right in there.

Now listen, I ain't no lovesick gotta-find-the-one, somebody for everybody, love at first sight, or any other such nonsense believer, and I'm not particularly given to this sex-positive society neither. Granted, I am not denying peoples individual freedoms and its a persons right to do with their body what they please, all's I'm saying is: I don't care to participate in such actions with my body; and that's my right to do with mine. So, when I say she landed there in that woman's body, who I had been conversing with and up to that point hadn't given much more of a hoot about besides being a good conversationalist for our collective headspaces, I know, and you oughtta believe, that it wasn't some sudden lovesick strike of infatuation what happened upon me just then. Besides, I'd gone through that phase in college and knew the signs for a conversation going toward the 'who's place' portion.

So it was suddenly her. Like a snap of the fingers, she was in front of me and boy howdy let me tell you what, the first thing she says to me, the very first thing was this:

"I'm sorry but, I feel like we've met before."

Hoo-boy! As if you hadn't been taunting and teasing my psyche with your astral projection and borderline possession for the past eight years. But I'm inebriated and one cant be too sure about such things. Plus that feeling of recognition, it happens to people, so I've heard, so I can't just come out with an, 'ah-hah! Its you!' and wag my finger at this poor woman I just met. And besides, I'm still not all to clear on how that thing she does works, but probably the woman still has all her faculties about her, seeing as how a full possession without permission would be evil, and she don't come from the evil place as I've established. Of course, also, being in the spirit of complete honesty, I wasn't entirely sure or aware it was her until a little bit further in, and as such my response was something alone these lines:

"You know, yeah I feel like that too. Maybe at J——'s place at some point. Like in passing maybe?"

"Could be, hard to say though, I don't go to her place often."

I don't rightly remember what followed conversation-wise, but I remember there being a cheer from the kitchen with a cry of 'This has happened before!' because other members of the groupmind were recognizing the familiarity of the situation and someone who distracted both her and my attention said something along the lines of, 'I feel like we've done this before,' to which J—— responded with, 'OMG this must be something important, how many times have we done this?' All of this, of course, affirming my suspicions... the suspicions I had afterward, of course.

Part of me wishes I hadn't been so blitzed to talk to her. Directly even! We spoke of the shadow people, intuition, and at one point, where I got real fuzzy, it seemed she was giving me instructions, and I remember I had to concentrate pretty hard to get even a little of what she was saying. I think she did that somewhat on purpose. Wouldn't be as obvious that it was her until after the fact. Could also be that its easier for a projector to persuade an inebriated host who believes most of the same esoteric things anyways so the situation was perfect for a pop in on me. She was saying things like 'you cannot let anybody's opinion affect your life,' and 'do exactly what you know you must no matter what,' along with, 'oh I'm sorry, but like, I have to get this out of the way, I just want you to know that I have a boyfriend,' and Snap! The host kicked her out, and we disintegrated into the pleasantries of recovering from intimate conversation which, even in circumstances without the host body having a boyfriend, would not have led to petty sex or anything more than a close friendship. But when you have been divulging what seems like your heart to what seems like a stranger you met at a party because you were invited last minute by your sometimes-acquaintance J——, things can get a little mixed up, so we must be completely clear with our boundaries.

I understand.

The conversation after that was lackluster. I gave her some acid cos I vibed with her even without her there, we all sat around to play blackjack, and they left at some point while I was babysitting someone who's psychosis was flaring up and needed someone who had been in a similar situation to ground them.

At this point, because of certain alludations I've made as well as story points which are present because, well, that how they happened, it may be that some readers suspect that this italicized her is nothing but a leftover from some drug-fueled college days which resulted in a temporary psychosis. But let me tell you, during that time of my life, there wasn't hide nor hair or even a spectral whisper of her presence anywhere near me. Probably stayed away from me so I wouldn't go on thinking that's all she was, some sort of hallucination I cant let go. But those first few times I recognized that there was someone slipping in and out of my life under the guise of other people, I hadn't even touched alcohol. And like I said, during my wild years, nothing. Maybe a sad whisper every once in a while, finding me passed out. Reminds me of the first time I'd heard her.

Oh yes, I'd heard her and felt her long before I'd seen her, actually recognized her presence as more than some ghost. In high-school, I'd gotten me my first girlfriend, and shortly thereafter, She gave me quite a startle when one night, lying in my bed, I heard them old farmhouse stairs creak like my older brother was coming up em to climb into his bed; when I waited for the light to turn on, it never did.

Go on and do something for me right quick. Close your eyes, and hold your hand close to your face. Now, of course you know something's there cos you're holding your own hand there, I get it, but go along with me for a second and just observe the feeling of the presence you feel between your hand and face. Now take your hand away, and that feeling's gone. Well, I was waiting for the light to turn on, cos surely my brother was the one who came up from the main floor, but instead I felt that presence, that closeness, that warmth, that... inner glow. And right into my ear, without the feeling of breath hitting my head, I heard my name whispered, a woman's voice. I'd thought at first, based on the intonation and such, that it was my mother, then second, that it had to be my brother, because he was the one had been downstairs and who had to make the stairs creak, but when I opened my eyes, there wasn't a soul to be seen. Well, I leapt off that bed and threw on the light, looking around for that darn prankster B——, my brother, but he wasn't in the room, no one was. He wasn't in the hall, he wasn't even in the TV room across the hall, and that whole time I was searching, I was making a racket just by the creak of the floorboards in that old farmhouse, so he couldn't've run away, else I woulda heard his racket.

Later in life, I was able to recognize that glow. Realized it was her that whispered to me. Throughout all my years she's shown up in dreams, popped up in strangers to say some cryptic thing, always leading me somewhere, somehow. She'll stroke a book, make it glow, completely ignore others I've picked up, makes them uninteresting. Got to a point where I was only reading books she pointed out. Only watched shows representative of our dance, our esoteric views and values.

This endless waltz which she controls and guides me on a leash of interest

Unfolds the secrets of a life untold, when shown beguiles some sacred test

And evermore I will endow her with the power to lead me to my final rest

I cannot bear to leave her now for some childish cooked up dream based on societies expectation of how a proper boy should behave when he's all up and grown to get a home and find a wife to settle down and get a life and become some guy standing at the top of his stoop looking down on us driving by like he’s better than the world, back turned to his middle apartment squished between twelve others just like it, each with their own upper floor resident installed and set on a timer to bang bang bang their headboard against the floorboards right when you have sensitive life matters to attend and a back yard just out the window which you can look at but not use, so it of course is the only mangled swamp mass thicket of vegetation amidst your neighbors Zen garden, hammock, fire pit paradise which you’d definitely put the work in to make even better than if only the bottom unit had been available but thank God it wasn’t because who wants to live in the basement of New York where the piss bubbles up to your ankles on a monthly schedule and permeates the air whenever you have company over for the first time when honestly this world to me lacks luster in everything I see except for when I encounter Her.

So I stopped living in that place. The world. I stopped following The Guide (tm). I left it all. My family, my friends, my home. I have nothing left in this material world, none of it matters anyway. Everything I own, I can carry on my back. Every day I go out, I dawn the mask. I become a member of the world.

Where was I when it happened? Prague. Does it even matter? Do locations on this filthy planet full of writhing tubes screaming over properties and possessions and what every other tube is doing besides them really matter? It doesn't. It can't. But you want it. The context, the story, the full picture, the honesty. There it is, honestly; and none of it is nihilism. That's just a fancy word for the tubes to have something to fight about.

Anyways. Prague. Last year. I've read nothing but what glows with her pure light. I've touched zero substances to prepare myself to confront her with a clear mind. She was only ever popping up in a flash and can’t tell it was her til after the distraction happened reminding me to be more aware about everything that’s going on no matter where I’m at since she just might decide to appear directly in front of me one day and I’d probably miss it at this point. So I changed. I am aware of every single moment, so clear in my head so that way when I try talking to her directly like that one time at the party I can hear her leave the person and say:

It doesn't work like that. If you ever try to address me, their conscious attention will be drawn to the moment. I exist outside of that, within the cracks of a persons mind, when they aren't fully paying attention; I can wedge my way in, and talk to you, but as soon as they notice their current surroundings, I'm shut out.

When was that? It doesn't matter. Everything is black and white but what she touches. This world would not exist without our dance. This world would not exist without me. This world is my dream. A dream. Dreams! That's right, I remember now.

Prague. Last year. I was reading about dreams. How to control them, and I figured it out. So as soon as I've stopped my work for the day so I can afford to fuel this mortal shell, I go to my rented bed, and dissolve into the bright ball of consciousness and appear in the room. The round, checkered room. And I wait. I wait, and I observe. And I do not see her, she does not appear. So I create the room my body is in, and from there spread out to the world I have seen, the world I remember, and I create the world. But still she does not appear. But I have seen her in dreams before, so I know she must be here, somewhere. So I fill in the details of the world. The house I grew up in, the house I left, the things I remember, and I remember everything.

But still she does not appear. But I want to see her, I need to see her. So I create myself, from my very earliest memory. I try to remember her. I watch myself, my life play out, and when it is time for that first encounter, she does not appear. Even though this is my memory, my stage, my play of my life, she misses her cue, so I step in for her, to play the part as best I can, and whisper to that half asleep me, lying on my bed, waiting for my brother to turn on the light, I kneel close, and whisper my name.

To sit in silence, How I forgot what to do in it. I wonder if we need some noise to drown out that buzzing in our ears. That ringing in our ear that is left over. When the phone's off, the speaker dies, yet that silent screech is heard from ear to ear. How noisy silence has become.

Maybe that ringing is the celebration of our ears to finally take a break. Electronics replaced by the soothing sound of the wind, the lullaby of the rain hitting the window. How pleasant those sounds are. Sounds that can only be appreciated in silence. When was the last time you were in silence.

Not to sleep, but to think. The silence that allows you to be in the moment. To let yourself be intertwined with the world around you. We've come to fear silence. Preferring a storm heard over a speaker, then to sit silently listening from shelter.

The silence scares me as well. I don't know what thoughts might come with it. Because I haven't known silence for long. So once I'm in it's presence, my mind finally feels its opportunity to fully manifest. I guess because it has missed silence, it's old friend.

The butterfly effect has been fascinating to me since my youth; particularly as a little girl dreaming of a career as a renowned scientist. It has been subconsciously prevalent in my life in many different instances. Perhaps the most notable was the day I fell in love with the ocean, and how it led me to pursue a career in marine biology.

Growing up, the entirety of my family resided within Greece. I spent summers upon summers frolicking the countryside of Arcadia, befriending sea turtles, creating a clan of stray cats, and swimming with jellyfish. I spent nearly every day submerging myself, both physically and mentally, within the sea. I wouldn't leave it until my fingers pruned with the ocean's love and my skin was flushed cherry red with the sun's touch. My daily visits with the sea shaped my future forever, though I didn't know it yet.

My love for the ocean that I've been cultivating since I was a child has been a driving force in my adolescent and young adult life, shaping my values and career aspirations. It has instilled in me a deep appreciation for nature and a strong desire to protect and preserve our planet's precious ecosystems. The realization of the threats facing our oceans has fueled my passion for environmental conservation and sustainability.

My ultimate goal is to work directly with marine ecosystems, conducting research and finding solutions to mitigate the effects of climate change on our oceans. Through scientific inquiry, I hope to contribute to our understanding of marine environments and develop strategies for their sustainable management.

However, my ambitions extend beyond research. I aspire to become an advocate for ocean conservation on a larger scale. I want to collaborate with organizations and policymakers to implement effective strategies for protecting our oceans and combating climate change. By influencing policy and raising awareness, I aim to make a significant impact in the field of marine conservation.

I dream of a world where future generations can experience the same awe and wonder that I feel when I dive into the depths of the ocean. The ocean has been my sanctuary, my inspiration, and my home. It has shaped my perspective on life and ignited a fire within me to make a positive impact. I am committed to dedicating my life to the conservation of our oceans and ensuring that they remain vibrant and thriving for generations to come.

Marine biology is not just a subject of study for me; it is a calling that drives me to learn and understand the intricacies of the ocean. The mystery and beauty of marine life, as well as the challenges faced by these ecosystems, excite and motivate me. I am drawn to explore the unknown, to unravel the secrets of the ocean, and to contribute to its preservation.

As the butterfly effect of my, at the time, thoughtless and ordinary visits to the ocean, I am eager to pursue a career in marine biology and environmental conservation, using my knowledge and skills to protect and preserve our oceans. It is my hope that through my work, I can inspire others to appreciate and protect the oceans, creating a sustainable future where humans and marine life can thrive together.

The ocean has given me so much, and I am determined to give back by dedicating my life to the conservation of our oceans and the pursuit of knowledge in marine biology. I am ready to embark on this journey and make a meaningful contribution to the preservation of our precious oceans.

I'd like... To be forgotten. No, that's not accurate. I'd like the person they see me as to be forgotten. I'd like to be given a funeral as who I am, not what they expect of me.

I already have a shaky idea of what it would look like if my family - my parents - were to bury me. They would gather relatives I never knew or cared about. Put me in a dress (I'd... Rather not) and maybe even jewellery. Maybe even do my hair in some way to make it seem I was a lovely Christian girl, the daughter of dreams.

I wouldn't say I'm rebellious. I spent a lot of my life trying to be perfect for them, actually. It's led to issues I'm working on but regardless, that was me. A version of me. Funny how even when things change so much, those little pieces and incorrect ways of thinking still stick around somewhere like an old piece of chewed gum.

So I do worry. That they'd give me a Christian funeral. Bring in a priest. Speak in Igbo as if I loved it. Talk about how I never got to have a husband or children as if that was a dream I had. About the people I could have been, the career paths I could have chosen, all of which would be their wants, not mine.

I've thought of this before. But briefly. Because back when I wanted to die that much, I suppose it hurt even though it wouldn't matter when I was dead, that the last time my body would be above the ground was going to be an elaborate, rich people party lie. Strangers apologising to my parents, praying for my soul. It reminds me of my eigth birthday party. Adults filling the sitting room. Me, my sister and a few of our friends to keep it down upstairs while they partied on our behalf.

But you're asking what I want. And... I don't know?

Well actually, I guess I do. I'd like to be in a suit. With my hair cut the way I like it. No earrings. Maybe even no shoes cos fuck em. Maybe some bathroom slippers. Remember me as I was in life. Except wearing a "man's outfit" cos I wanna be burned looking hot, I guess? I haven't worn a suit since I had to pretend to be a businessman during a secondary school presentation years ago. I think I'd like to some day when I feel brave enough. Why not the day I'm meant to go, as well?

I think I do want to be cremated. I don't see the point of burials... Personally. I understand wanting to return my body to the earth to be eaten and used for its nourishment. But burials of today mean giant slabs of wood and marble. As if people are meant to stay human-looking and alive forever. I know it seems like that's all we are but we never really were, were we? There's so much to a person beyond the things they've been taught by the world around them. Besides who they've grown to become.

Just... Burn me, man. Let me turn to ash. I think ash is a weird, beautiful concept. The way it moves and fades into the wind. I don't want to be dropped in a specific place. I just want to join the breeze. I want them to take me to different places, places that aren't choked up in noise and city-living... And just... Throw me into the air. Heck, they can travel to do it. A little bit of Paris, a little bit of Italia heh... Why not? My sister and brother should do it... I trust them most.

And then it would all be over. But I worry. That I would be buried the way the parents want me to. It's part of why I don't mind the thought of dying alone, in some strange country... Body never to be found by family. I don't want to go the way they bury their relatives. With the pretence and the keeping up grand appearances. I don't want someone to ask a child "why aren't you smiling more" at my funeral the way my aunt did to me at her mother's funeral, as if being around the guests/relatives/utter strangers meant I had to play a part. Be a puppet.

Acting is overrated. And yeah, it likely won't mean a thing to a dead person, whether there's an afterlife or not but I don't want to have my death the way people made me feel I had to be in life. Just throw me to the breeze, the sea, into the void of nothing that was always a part of me. Let me be sucked away, never to be again... Probably. No way to tell, really.

I always wanted to be a bird, a cloud, a piece of the wind... At least my broken-down body would get the experience of that for a moment. That alone would be enough.

She lies on her bed. Her curtains are drawn, creating a barrier between the artificially lit room and the darkened cityscape beyond. The melody of tires on asphalt mingle with the hum of her refrigerator, filling the air with rhythmic noise. She rolls onto her side and rustles the quilt beneath her curled form.

She subconsciously sighs. Her eyes do not see the mundanely magical moment. Her ears do not hear the unassuming symphonies. No. Despite her tangibility, she is detached, lost in an endless loop of instant, yet short-lived gratification. For in her hand, she clutches her phone.

Her irises reflect snippets of other people’s lives. She watches them perform short skits, craft “must-try” recipes, explore foreign cities, and simply, live. She watches them live. Ten minutes pass. Then, 30. She should stop scrolling. One hour, gone. She sees the time vanish, aware, yet complacent. Two hours, now. She sighs. Hating her lack of control. Hating how this tiny illuminated screen filled with relentless content, governs her time.

She stops. The phone slips from her hand. She feels defeated—her mind, fuzzy. She looks around her room, trying to anchor herself once more in reality. Her reality. Why, she wonders. Why does she seek to escape? She exhales loudly, and tears collect in her eyes. She is living her dream. She is living a life her past self desperately strived to achieve. And instead of embracing her blessed existence, instead living in the present, she leaves. She steps away from the physical and enters a monotonous spiral of fast-paced dreamlands—a twisted haven where everyone shines more vibrantly than her.

Each day, she falls victim to the mind-numbing allure of scrolling. Each day, she tells herself that tomorrow will be better. She will be better. She will have more control. She won’t fall victim to the siren’s call. And, each day, she fails.

She inhales sharply, trying to fill the emptiness that doom scrolling left in its wake. She could have read. She could have learned something new. She could have gone to sleep early. She could have enjoyed a hobby. She could have bettered herself. She could have done anything. But, no. She laid, curled in an impassive position, greedily consuming video after video after video after video. Never satiated.

Tomorrow, she lies to herself, tomorrow will be different.

Tomorrow, she will be different.

“I just feel like… there’s no time left. Like I am out of time… don’t you ever feel like that?” My older sister stood before me, crying and anxious.

Ohmygod. She even cries beautifully.

That was my first thought. The next was to wonder what the hell she was even talking about. Her life had always been perfect.

My sister was 38, a former cheerleader, model, and beauty pageant winner. She was married to her high school sweetheart with whom she had three wonderful kids. She had a successful career and was still so breathtakingly beautiful that other women would often try to emulate her style.

What do YOU have to cry about? Seriously. Ugh.

I hugged her to me, unsure what to say next because honestly, she was weirding me out. I didn’t know where her uncomfortable emotional deluge was coming from, but I wanted it to end. I was eleven years her junior. The little sister. Why is it suddenly my job to help her while she loses her shit for no apparent reason?

I proceeded to tell her she was silly to feel the way she did. I discounted her sense of dread by blaming her feelings on stress and/or hormones. I tried to get her “back to normal” as soon as possible with my cheery, empty encouragement.

Less than one year later, I received a call from my panicked mother saying my sister had collapsed at home while getting ready for work.

My sister had died of a brain aneurysm.

She was 39 years old.

Perhaps my sister knew, by way of some premonition, that her time was nearing an end. I will never know what was on her mind.

If I could have one more day with her, I would choose to return to when she told me she felt there was no time left. I would take her to get one of those fancy coffees she adored and I would just would sit with her and listen.

I would listen for as long as she’d speak.

There has been a lot of talk going on in society and in my more religious family circle about how, "Evil" is taking over and morality has become more diluted than a $20 beer at a county fair. I must admit, I don't really understand the worry. Oh, there is no doubt that there is a lot of bad shit going down. With humanity at the helm, there's always bad shit going down. Granted, at times it seems worse than others. However, I am a bit skeptical that all of humanity is on the precipice of adopting a level of malice and evil that would laugh at starving puppies and make everyone become Green Bay Packers or Dallas Cowboys fans. Why? Evil is never sustainable. By its very nature, it undermines its own victories and eventually devours itself. Come frolic with me as we look at how evil will not ever be able to achieve a status of the norm.

Thinking about my more religious family members, let's talk about the devil. According to most Christian dogma the devil is responsible for all the evil we mortals do. IF the devil exists, I have a feeling that he's been demoted from his position as lord of all that's evil. Why? Because humanity kicked off the training wheels of entry level malice old Lucifer was teaching us on a long time ago and graduated to riding the fucking 2122 cc Harley Davidson hog of evil doing (without helmet of course). Ironically, old Satan signed his own pink slip the moment he taught certain humans that they could control large groups of people and easily manipulate them into doing horrific things. When the fires of the first ignorant fueled genocide were sparked, the student became the master. My guess is that Satan is probably pushing a broom at the bottom of the Stairway to Heaven to make ends meet now. So, let's take Lucifer and the supernatural out of the equation.

Okay, so we know that humanity is more than capable of perpetrating horrific evil on its own. In fact, such evil doers typically enjoy early, but unsustainable success. Hitler's methods were successful in convincing a lot of German citizens to take a vacation from basic human decency and morality. From there, the Nazis were able to win control of most of mainland Europe with minimal resistance. Of course, the French followed their original, military manual titled, "How to Engage in War with Germany" and surrendered pretty fast. Sadly, I don't think the French ever learned because to this day if you want to close a French restaurant in less than a week all you have to do is open a German bakery across the street. The French restaurant will quickly close down to be replaced by a Jamba Juice. Now, here is where evil falters. When the Luftwaffe started to bomb Great Britain by the numbers, they should've won quickly. Britain's supply chain was virtually cut off and the little island nation didn't get a lot of help from allies (GEE THANKS FRANCE). Still, Britain held its own where it was at a HUGE statistical disadvantage. Nazi Germany never won control of Great Britain although the numbers said they should have. Is this isolated? No, look at the current Ukraine against Russia situation. By rights Ukraine should have fallen to Putin and his army a long time ago, but they haven't. In fact, Russia's more than a little desperate at this point. Is this coincidence? No. The evil of both Nazi Germany and Putin's Russia has burned itself out. One can be assured that the evil foundation will continue to crumble as evil men begin to plot against their own trying to steal whatever scraps of power may be left over.

More examples? Okay. How about Harriet Tubman, the most famous conductor of the Underground Railroad in the Civil War era? The number of slaves she rescued is up for debate, but it is certain that she delivered no fewer than seventy slaves to freedom without losing a single one. Now, let's be clear here. Ms. Harriet had abolitionist supporters, but she did what she did mostly alone and almost entirely in enemy territory. Keep in mind, that unlike the resistance fighters that fought against the Nazi regime throughout Europe in the second world war, Harriet couldn't just blend in. There was virtually no way to hide in plain sight. In a white South, a lone African American woman on the road would be seen as BEYOND suspicious. Still, with all the odds all against her, Harriet was successful and A REAL BAD ASS. As far as I'm concerned she makes Rambo, The Terminator, and every other movie hero look like, well the French military leadership right before Nazi Germany decided to embarrass them AGAIN.

One could also point out the Colonists during the Revolutionary War, the women of the Suffrage Movement, the US hockey team during the Miracle on Ice in the 1980 Winter Olympics, the Road Runner versus Wile E Coyote, Bugs Bunny versus Yosemite Sam, the Detroit Lions beating the Green Bay Packers twice in 2022 to take them out of the playoffs, and countless other victories where evil found itself losing where it should have won easily.

In short, humanity has a history of engaging in one night stands with evil, but eventually the beer goggles wear off and good prevails. Of course, good, being good, will still call evil an Uber so it can get home.

i know you're with somebody new

but i can't write a song that's not all about you

it's not fair

how come it's so easy

for you to forget everything you said

like how i was the best girl that you ever met

guess you take it back

shouldve expected that

when i say im fine

im lying really well

cuz i cant love anyone else

and im so jealous that you can

scared i'll never feel that again

i still cant call anyone "baby"

cuz baby is still you to me

dont you think i wanna move on too

but i cant love anyone the way

the way i loved you

Negligee is the most beautiful word in the English Language to me although the French made the word. Negligee in my mind is spelled wrong yet it looks right and is pronounced awkward. With the two EE's with a hyphen at the end to pronounce AA's, changed its introduction.

Yet, it's a beautiful appearance to a sleepwear outfit to describe the sexy mood of a woman. When she is presented in this awkward word, she is seen as a Beautiful flawless vision of sexual intentions. So I will say it again, Negligee is not only beautifully named, but also beautifully presented in any language, thus being the most perfect word in the English Language.