You say that you can’t help it, that it just seemed right. With tight knuckles and pursed lips, I say from this outside view of mine my dear, it is not. Through the lens of tunnel vision, you continue forward with no regards, no concerns, nothing. Your surroundings blur in this chase of false contentment. Your mind clouded with empty promises. Your brilliancy simplified. You never stop to consider the consequences, the impacts, nothing. You chose to tread through the reckless rain, head down, while I am desperately standing on the street corner, head up, with outstretched arms and an umbrella. Beckoning you to heed my protection and care. I am so utterly confused by you, but I’ve discovered something last night. You see, my dear, humans are moths. Clumsy and confused. With the first glimpse of light, hopelessly tempted, attracted, and drawn nearer as if the avaricious mind uncontrollably separates itself from the body. In this moment of intensified glimmer and glisten, sight is lost. With feeble eyes fixated on this scorching light, everything that has always mattered creeps into the dusty darkness. Your shadow my residency. What a paradox it is that this light is so harmful, so blinding. This chase will taint and consume your very existence until you’re left empty, nothing.

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