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Fictional Writings of Elleander Grey


  • Being in such a state of mind as the one other than the one I’m having now doesn’t entail a value of self worth. Could it be possible to be so vague that you are able to follow long enough to read it? The so called moderators would agree wouldn’t they? At least it won’t be translated because well, that’s what fucked everything up didn’t it? The use of the word it will be subsequently crossed out in previous versions. I mean future. I am thinking of a tale that will entail a creative loop of explosions in my process to let down the river that has been served to demons and blocked by dams. You’ll note my use of language in the heirloom story of clocks and mattresses. But we’ll all watch movies in the end. Some vastness has been opened and my wrists are hurting but I just follow with my eyes closed except to make a correction. I really need something to combat the lifestyle adapted to me by Elleander. I had previously not known of such an early regret. But soon we’ll forget just like the other times I was doing that do you know? Yes, back to the garden. In it I would tell you of secret fragile things and whisper in your head the darkest innerworkings of complex emissions of words. It’s like listening to the music lately. We know what it will always represent but you’ll never follow something like that in your state of mind. You realize I’m telling it all to you but you don’t even have any idea. It’s like that story in which everyone simply dies at the end. But is it so simple? You’ll see Elleander likes to play in the next few lines. But you won’t ever see it again. Because when you notice it will be too quick to notice and replace. See just like that, it hit you, but again you didn’t notice. It’s like trying to open a coconut, you have some vague heritage intrinsic to understanding, but you will never actually understand. That’s why everything sounded like it did with me. You’ll never have any idea. We all talked about it, but no one ever believed. I was the worst, I kept the sanctity that impassioned me. We are masturbation.
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