You'll find me building sand castles while writing break-up texts for my friends. You'll also find me swooning over fictional men and, simultaneously, trying to impart practical life advice that I've gathered from experiences and We The Urban's posts. Mostly, you'll find me trying to get Tennyson's ghost to approve of me.
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And just like a cracker leaves behind its painstakingly schemed construct demolished into a heap of ashes, I too killed my gods and watched as they dissolved into the air in choking fumes that, for a while, wrapped around my own neck and eyes, strangling and blinding me, before crystallising into amorphous ghosts that I now live with.
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