. ♡

cusp of an oblique ardor; to be sealed in a feats of gusto as no one can contain me, my love.

Question me with peculiar theme, converse me in a way you'd gently hold a fragile broken tears and deliver me to redemption of your hollowed void where space I cannot sham.

You will never love the mundane me. Leave me, as I stand, a mellow, eccentric Chiron. Love me for all that I am, and I will haunt your dear life through all your billion lifetimes.

I was neither deranged, feral, nor unhinged—just having an existential crisis.

I built this whole cathedral of words just to say:  [REDACTED] There is no unsubscribing from being haunted by someone this dramatic.

Maybe I'm too much, a plain, a bore. Maybe that was always the plan. Either way, thank you for staying this long in someone else's fever dream.

Anyway — that's the intro. The actual game is calmer than I am. Probably. Go find out. ;))

Okay, enough of me being dramatic about being dramatic. Go play the game.

Existential crisis, resolved! See you on the other side of this page.

Lovelots, xoxo