Sovereign. Deadly. Perfect.

Those Around You Can Have Their Novellas, Sweet, Their Short Stories Of Cliché And Coincidence, Occasionally Spiced Up With Tricks Of The Quirky, The Achingly Mundane, The Grotesque. A Few Will Even Cook Up Greek Tragedy, Those Born Into Misery, Destined To Die In Misery. But You, My Bride Of Quietness, You Will Craft Nothing Less Than Epic With Your Life. Out Of All Of Them, Your Story Will Be The One To Last.

Like That Lightning That Comes Out Of The Blue When There's Not Even A Storm Going On, Just A Crazy Crack In The Sky. With Something Like That Right In Front Of You, You Can't Help But Feel There's New Possibilities Out There.

It Felt As If We'd Been To War Together. Deep In A Jungle, Alone, I Had Relied On Them, These Strangers. They'd Held Me Up In Ways Only People Could. When It Was Over, An Ending Never Felt Like An Ending, Only An Exhausted Draw, We Went Our Separate Ways. Be We Were Bonded Forever By The History Of It, The Simple Fact They'd Seen The Raw Side Of Me And Me Of Them, A Side No One, Not Even Closest Friends Or Family Had Ever Seen Before, Or Probably Ever Would.

It's A Common Feeling For People To Feel Intermittent Antipathy Toward Individuals They're Familiar With.

It’s Got To Be Some Kind Of Cult. Anyone Offers You Kool-aid Or A Hot Shower, Say No.