Villainess’s Sweet Everyday

It is foolish to compare, even in relative terms, a pathetic abstract being that slightly contemplates the way life is served, and the emptiness of an incompetent mind drifts through the void, clumps, and forms a form, as a solid. If you remake yourself, I wonder if you can grasp something like a mug caffin. I glance around in my mind. Mr. Mayria is not here. I wonder if it's saturated. The neighboring bed is nicely maintained, appealing to its whiteness, and embodies the end of the role. A white towel kettle dripping from the edge of the bed is shaking like a willow in the wind entering through the window. My body is a lot lighter. They push the circumference of the shoulder blades of the back to muscle through. At some point I was lying down. Me as I am.