however, this place, is a very small space with lucite walls and the panic is flying all around me, bumping into them. this hidey hole is hanging by a long, thin piece of fishing line above a vast abyss filled with whirling, ardent, spinning, vehement stressors.
pray, dear friends, that this fishing line holds until i get myself safely home. it is far too pretty of a day to let panic and stress into my space.
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