This going to sounds absolutely crazy, I promise you, but... whenever I promise someone something, it always feels like an empty promise. I have every intention of fulfilling that promise, but it's like some small part of me, tucked away up the back where the lights don't quite reach, some little splinter of my self that doesn't ever socialise with the Greater Self, knows best. He (or she) adds a few tiny drops of despair to the final concoction to just-wrongly flavour the pronouns and verbs; they taste like salt afterwards, and they curl down out of my mouth under the weight of their doubts.

He (or she) doesn't even believe you'll think this is crazy; just par for the course.
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