more about this later

I can’t tell you what my plan is, because if my plan actualized and I had it floating around in writing it would blow up in my face. Oh, but I got a plan. (what’s your plan got to do with me? I got a plan. I’m not trying to hear that, see?)

*fairly busting with absurdity*

It’s a stupid plan, chein. It isn’t really even a plan, just an over-thought fantasy. The epitome of all impossible situations. Note to those in the know—not about him, dear. (it’s about an even impossible-er him)

The other him has ceased in the ability to get me stomping and purring as of late. This new him ain’t even real, or, is, but isn’t anyone I actually know in any personal way. But the flashbulbs are popping and everyone needs something to get geared up over, right? Sure they do. (I answer myself, so hush)

About me

I am great.
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