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September 26, 2012
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Sing to me and hold me until I go to sleep. That's a test of loyalty if ever there was one, for I am gathering dust upon layers of false chintzy cheeriness and glittery clothes. Look at me. To you I will always be that child, but to her I am that shadow whose name she can't quite remember, but does it matter? Green and purple became me, but I look at you and see nothing but a vorpal grin. Tick-tock, tick-tock! We are shadow people now, you and I. They will soon forget us and soon pass us by in the street, unsure if we were ever acquainted. I'm only 5 years old, or so they keep telling me. I'll clap my hands and giggle as we slowly tear the skin off of each others faces, because it's nothing more than a game and we'll be home in time for tea. Don't worry, we'll burn the photographs- just in case. History is there to be rewritten, isn't it darling?

The first Roulin stays strong in my dreams. Wherever I go, I see her face and I am unable to rest. She is no longer Mother, figure I bow down before and cry for forgiveness for all my sins in front of. She is grateful for this, because who in their right mind would be a God? Being an Angel is quite enough hard work, trapped in solid marble and gold. You were always golden, love. I have never forgotten that in another world, you bore me and gave me your name. Here we are, love, more than a thousand years on and we tell the world that nothing happened. Normal lives, yes, yes- shhh! Hide behind this curtain and change your costume. Be anyone you want to be. They couldn't find the right eyes for me, but no matter- "The world wags on,". I'm only pressing another mask to my face, seeing through yet another persons eyes and forgetting the outline of the mask is scarring my skin. I'm so tired, love, but I can neither stop nor rest.

I am frightened, you know how much I loathe these creatures. The images are everywhere, slowly moving, constantly reminding me of words best left forgotten. The empty spaces and echoing sounds frighten me too, but they are beginning to comfort me- perhaps I am preparing for something we can't yet foresee. Lone statues turn and grin, posters on the trains blink and murmur, Mrs so-and-so stares over my shoulder and I silently pray that she can see you too. A bead of sweat falls from my face. I never rest again.
No.
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