Title.
What fuels me to write? Is it the exasperation at my own non fiction reality so much so that i have to create an alternate universe? Is it me requiring enhancement of the shortcomings of this same non fictitious world? Is it me escaping this satan's spawn of a foresaken unwanted gift we call life? Which by the way we have to appreciate as if it was bestowed on us by a godly being when it was most definitely not asked for? I am not entirely sure, but I am glad that at least for a few seconds, a few words can make everything alright, even if they are inherent, even if they are not spoken or directed to anyone. Just black strings of letters dancing on a white background- and everything will be okay again.
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