How dare you. Don't you go killing my dreams before they've even had a chance to get off the ground. Hunting them down while they're still fragile figments of my imagination. The poor helpless things.
Fragments, nonsense, random words and letters. A steady stream of consciousness, uninhibited by thoughts and reality. A verbal sketchbook of sorts. Notes, poems, truths, lies, and things that might sound good in a book if I ever do get around to writing one...
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