What, pray tell, is the correct response to the surname of Jack Skellington’s crown? That small distant suburb known as Halloween town…
To have even the closest of friends correct me on any matter in the very deepest of love, will only reinforce the lashes I’ve already inflicted on my own soul and mind. By the time you have said your piece, I’ve martyred myself with a thousand crucifixions.
I need gray skies and rain. Cold November days where you can stare outside and almost see the exact moment when nature itself goes comatose.