After an impulsive root canal on my right, top, second-furthest-back molar and a sensational Thai lunch, a silent cloud took it upon itself to join forces and create a single entity; the likes of which had never been fully dreamed of. Defiantly, it scrabbled on it’s tiny specks of cloud-feet up and over the dead trees which rose out of the swamp like twisted, broken fingers. That wurm defeated even the sun.
One of the worst feelings in life is walking out on someone you love; the look of utter despair shimmers quietly below her eyes. But what if the reason behind walking out was caused by another, more devious, more hateful feeling? And, what if that feeling was, in part, caused by "play errors" on your behalf? Really, what can one say when one hears a girl softly whittling silent embellishments into her skin to make herself feel more comfortable whilst in the company of oneself? Well, the first reaction would probably be to walk out on that girl, leaving half of your heart there with her to writhe in agony while the other half feels one of the worst feelings in life.
As sad as it is for me to say the words, they ring undeniably true: The Subtle Pen is dead; defunct; deceased. The harder I tried to make every single thing in that tiny universe brilliant and blatantly accessible the faster it crumbled down around my oddly-shaped toes. Much like the inverse growth patterns of rabbits left unchecked in a field of clovers, The Subtle Pen began to decline faster and faster until there was nothing left to do but look at it, sigh and move on. That is the exact reason why you are here.