And yet...
No, I will not entertain the insanity that shadows speak to me, I'm not that far gone, and I never was.
Howling at a moon I can't see from my cage, my lament is not something attractive.
Yet, it is what it is, a consequence.
And I find (somehow) the gumption to resume, as if (to all practical effects) nothing happened.
In fact, nothing is what happened. A great nothingness, filling me with emptiness, a vacuum with entity. And, as we know, vacuum has a draw.
I lie. Vacuum would be to leave you behind, something I despair of trying anymore, it's a moot point in logic to negate your presence in me.
My eyes did open, my mouth utters my native tongue again. You infected me with the debate bug (another lie, it was dormant).
As if I did not have a reason to strive, to conquer myself already, you (yes, you) gave me ten more.
It's the most beautiful present anyone can receive. And I love you the more for it. For as long as one of my cells is capable to carry out a mythosis, you'll be present in what I'd call my soul (for want of a better name).
My opinions stretch to myself, of course. It would be impolite to stretch any further.
My opinions about you, for when you ask for them (if ever).
All I will say is that I see no reason for you to apologize. I never did.
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