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It grows dark

so fast, and something has sort of turned inside of me, and I feel listless..

So my thoughts have turned to what I will do to occupy myself the next couple of months, I have much I am going to create. Besides my novel, many small craftings to express my feelings but also to hone my skills.

I have been turning sort of desperately lately to the idea of a Guardian Angel.

And I have felt very weak myself, sort of pale and passive. Hm is it the things I read, or am I turning to read these things because I feel this way? It is this season coming forward. It is the hollow inner space, here is a snow globe with no warm and glowing hearth inside of my heart, when you shake it, it only looks like a blizzard. And then I think I have been wrong, I should have had children of my own and made a glowing hearth, not that I am by any means beyond that possibility but my mind, no, my mind, I would be like one of those Victorian women going mad at the thought of bearing children.

Some people are too sensitive for some things maybe?


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