The unincident of the optionable sided shape.

Now days without sleep, no morsel of food has passed my lips. Day magazine came with an year-old story- Pathway to the Beloved. I smiled out, yet within seemed storm wrecked. Writer's Muse comparable to whatever magazine you enjoy the most. I was 45 at the end of July and singularly spoilt. I got what I desired most. A day doubt scorned itself way fast out of the house. Lifting the rose bush to the sun. Since then I have reached beyond the middle of Thrice Advent. My friends have the story so far. 25 chapters, they are my backup frisbee disc. Friends are fun, don't you think, and family, but the nine muses watch over me, all my ancestors ever gave me was love. But, the muses leant me hope and strength and I know they will never ask me to give it back. But ancestors get the chocolate cake, for I find myself alive ever since I was born. But, really don't you think friends are fun?