sometimes, the sun shines
#4
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*sucks at life!*



Sometimes, words were all he had -- lost sentences that had transcended from lifetimes ago, that had originated from other people, other centuries, other worlds altogether. It was not so strange how easy it was to cling on to such meaningless sounds or letters scrawled over a page. Truth, no matter how subjective or deceptive it was, was always harder to accept than lies, borrowed, self-conceived or otherwise. And that was why circular things stayed circular because nothing ever changed. Words couldn't do it and nothing else ever would. Ahren was a mirror from the circus and showed him a distorted reflections. For all their coincidences and similarities, they were not the same.



Sorry hung on the tip of his tongue when he parted his maw to speak. It was the reflex, the permeating guilt, the ghost of a poor boy, and a thousand pardons no one deserved. She's not your responsibility, the hybrid said quietly, staring forward at the other. You shouldn't have to shoulder it. His tail twitched restlessly and he needed something to do with his hands, but there was nothing to touch or hold or tear. He had never cared much for the habit, but he made a note to go find or make some goddamn cigarettes later, even if he ended up bumming some.


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