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It is a fact that cannot be denied: the wickedness of others becomes our own wickedness because it kindles something evil in our own hearts.
The moon hung in its western altar like the last melancholy guest at a dinner party, who was too lonely to leave.
In such ways are friendships built. In tiny moments, in secrets shared.
“Yeah? Your mother’s so dumb she stares at an orange juice carton all day because it says: concentrate.”
lol the way i laughed at this!
