To:

Oh Darling, how could anyone ever take you seriously. You are the complete image of a farce! Read all the Bukowski you like and pretend to understand all the Nietzsche you want. When playing a game of pretend there is no reward. Move all the pieces you like and skip all the space you want, you can’t beat a game that you haven’t begun. I hope you have carefully placed your most prized possession within shimmering diamonds. Easy now, you just might see her for what she actually is. She’s deep because she owns the lenses of yesterday which then capture the images of inanimate objects that she swears are unnoticed relics. They are the same relics that you glorify and overexpose. I wish you no grievance or despair, although you have exclaimed that despair is evidently your favorite word. I always found this adoration fairly comical and I think you can infer why, but that is besides the point. Maybe one day you’ll tear yourself away from performing an act that does not suit you, but for now I hope that you relish in the portrait that you have painted for yourself.

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