The amnesia of an "ex-dreamer"

Hey, webkin.

It's been a while. The past weeks had me running like a roadrunner. I was LITERALLY in full hectic mode. You may think I'm complaining, or that this is the price I pay for seeking a little comfort.

But you'd be surprised to know the reason runs deeper than your sceptic tank. You heard me right. It smells foul, too. All this hectic-ness and comfortless-ness are a true tale as aged as time, so to speak. In fact, it runs in the blood of those who genuinely fought for true comfort; some of which were forgotten by history books.

But these efforts don't really matter to pseudo-revolutionaries. I bet the last thing they want is smell forget-me-nots when the ghosts of those who genuinely fought for their right to vote or right to have fun is lurking nearby. 

These ex-dreamers' stories of showing up merely for hedonistic reasons stink, and thus, deserve to be forgotten.

Literally ❝ Lila 



Favorite Letters

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The nightmare of insomnia

An everyday holiday