I'm Honestly Not A Big Fan Of

We Understand How Dangerous A Mask Can Be. We All Become What We Pretend To Be.

It's My Opinion That If You're Trying To Tell A Realistic Story That Centers Around Realistic Characters, You Can't Help But Touch On Important Issues. Those Issues Are What Make Us Human.

Then I Felt Something Inside Me Break And Music Began To Pour Out Into The Quiet. My Fingers Danced; Intricate And Quick They Spun Something Gossamer And Tremulous Into The Circle Of Light Our Fire Had Made. The Music Moved Like A Spiderweb Stirred By A Gentle Breath, It Changed Like A Leaf Twisting As It Falls To The Ground, And It Felt Like Three Years Waterside In Tarbean, With A Hollowness Inside You And Hands That Ached From The Bitter Cold.

I Wanted To Tell Her That She Was The First Beautiful Thing I Had Seen In Three Years. That The Sight Of Her Yawning To The Back Of Her Hand Was Enough To Drive The Breath From Me. How I Sometimes Lost The Sense Of Her Words In The Sweet Fluting Of Her Voice. I Wanted To Say That If She Were With Me Then Somehow Nothing Could Ever Be Wrong For Me Again.

This Is The Nature Of Love." Vashet Said. "to Attempt To Describe It Will Drive A Woman Mad. This Is What Keeps Poets Scribbling Endlessly Away. If One Could Pin It To Paper All Complete, The Others Would Lay Down Their Pens. But It Cannot Be Done.