Are not opposites. Are not separate. Some of us have beauty so wide, so deep, the horror hides beneath. Some of us are filled with such horror, the beauty strikes the rest of us with such exacting, pinprick force it leaves blood.
I don't know what I'm saying, other than I have this thought, almost, and the opposite side of the Living Thought. We don't stare at each other and see the darkness as something divine. We stare at each other and worry, somehow, we aren't perfect enough. Or right enough.
For what? Nothing. For a continuation of… I don't know.
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