Thoughts are a shambles in my head. Memories of comfort are now of insecure design. Ambition and courage have failed me. Nay, I have failed ambition and courage. They've moved on from lost hope of my intentions, no longer finding reason to linger in my energy. To what lifeless dimension have I fallen? Portals of spiritual death surround my aura soaking up all purity and youth like a ravenous sponge. Am I a fool to believe there is lingering hope or a fool to believe the well of such is empty?
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