With the winter past I come, Death.

On the day before today they asked me to reply tomorrow. They asked who I was was and whether I felt sorrow.

I answered very succintly, I’m 19, my skin is colored pinkly. There’s not much else to say as of yet, I’m just in this for the full burst and out of it I’d feel as though I was cursed. I live to write, I write so I might read, and I read to live my life fully.

I’m participating in the full marathon and I have very little to say about my self which is unable to be written. I look forward to this and hope my sunburn doesn’t kill me.

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