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upon almost two years ago when i sought to clean my veins out by winter's end (lived to brag about it), forgotten the first time by my true love, and i found that the words to lua magnetized to me in all the right ways: true romance, storybook tragedy, and eventual abandonment in life or death - whichever comes first - and those were always the right things as i've known them. cleaned out my first aid kit and saw it empty as always. just a note: dress up. all is full of love.

speaking of cryptic tragedy as only i could stick my tongue in epileptic tics, the morning before i last i was walked into another internet conspiracy theory having to do with the so-called "mandela effect." i didn't pay much mind to it the first few times over the years but this had to do with a 90's film starring sinbad (the comedian), as a genie, that i wholly remember and recall - yet it never existed?... no, no no... i remember this one and clearly recall that it had to do with two kids, a brother and sister (which i would remember as i have a little sister) finding a genie played by sinbad, and by the time that shaq's genie "kazaam" movie had come into existence, it was readily dismissed as a knock-off movie that nobody would care to see. i'm not confusing the two at all because i've always known them as separate films. now i've learned that sinbad's genie movie never existed?... essentially, the "mandela effect" has no definite meaning except to vaguely allude to the phenomenon of a lot of assorted people specifically recalling something that never existed as some sort of false memory as if it's a symptom of alternate timelines and/or dimensions converging into each other at some specific point in time. however, it doesn't make sense because i remember this movie that apparently has no evidence of its existence. it's fucked up. i asked a handful of people near or at my age and even rena specifically remembers this movie with a casual 'yeah' when i randomly asked her. she appropriately freaked out upon disbelieving me, at first, when i told her 'yeah apparently never existed and there is no evidence of it.' fuck, even my mom remembers this movie! i asked her too. i asked anyone who would've been halfway paying attention in the early-to-mid 90's...

gives rise to this quasi-romantic idea that i've kept and expressed in figurative imagination, only connecting with other souls the same as i, precisely because we're abandoned and left over from another parallel realities or timelines having fallen with them through the cracks. i held onto a vivid dream about something similar when i was a teenager, just before meeting rena, and i even remember the precise day and night for no reason at all. it was an emotionally imposing dream where this particular reality/dimension/timeline would be coming to an expected but unexplained end, yet there was a route of escape for everyone to take by finding themselves into these egg pods amidst a wet valley. most would be holding each other and made whimpered promises to find each other again upon calibrating their rebirth in the same place, period, and time as each other. to find each other again. to be friends. to be lovers. to continue who they were and what they had together as the same souls but different people from different parents and different lives. it's an idea and dream that could never leave me and only now have i ever put to words, as i've always sort of known my whole life since dreaming such a dream, there is a story to be told that would be relatable to most any soul who ever felt lost, never thinking they fit in the jigsaw puzzle that makes up reality so colored or smothered by atomic greys, and wanting to believe they were from somewhere else that exists - if only they could remember. i may have ruined much of my life in forever shame by self-medicating on heroin, perverse sex, and a neverending story of sadness, but i always found time to be well-read, learned, and devoting my soul to the structure of anything and everything that mattered to me at the time. the simplicity of story, quantum reality, classical literature, multiverse theory, linguistics, and anything ever worth putting thought where it wouldn't belong according to most other people. there is something in this idea. something valuable. i've already poured fragments and knifed shards in a notepad file where all my thought crimes are kept to be wept, and where dreams are made to be used and wasted. no ransom to be paid, song unsung or wine to be tasted. not here, teenage dirtbags. not anymore.

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