02-18-2020, 06:43 AM
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; line-height: 150%; color: #494949; font-family: karla; font-size: 8pt; letter-spacing: 0.2px; word-spacing: 1px; margin-top: 10px;"]this mass was a familiar rendition of the last.
throuhgout the mass , as the young boy before her expounds The Pastor's word , they fall away. millie was once engaged in the words spoken; readily able to praise His word as she was expected to. despite her lack of reactivity , something that was not new , it doesn't minimize her involvement any less. but by millie's twentieth birthday , there is a shift. she isn't quite ready to recognize it , nor engage with it , fearing it may make it less of of a woman of her Faith. she worried that , if she thought too much , she'd fall into the rabbit hole of Temptation that those who live into their twenty-first too often face. of course, any regular Sunday Mass is able to serve as a distraction; but each sacrifical mass, even by the execution of kai, makes her on just how little time she has. and damn is she afraid.
those who witness her tears won't be able to pinpoint why she's crying. the identities of those at the altar were some she was familiar with; fellow babysitters , and herders , or simply friends. while most appeared stoic , she couldn't help but wonder what most of them felt ; having settled months into ideas did their ideologies shift to ones similar to dillon's? or were they gratified , pleased; finally , they'll be able to shed themselves from a word so cruel , sinful. embrace a divine immortality beyond this one where they were understood as the divine children of Abaddon, forever youthful. some might even feel as if they're doing a service , saving their future from a sickness that can't seem to be logically explained. millie should be proud , and by the idea itself she is , but she can't help but feel shamefully devastated. sick to her stomach . not even realizing it as she stares , barely blinking , seemingly lost in some distant realm as tears stream down her face.
throuhgout the mass , as the young boy before her expounds The Pastor's word , they fall away. millie was once engaged in the words spoken; readily able to praise His word as she was expected to. despite her lack of reactivity , something that was not new , it doesn't minimize her involvement any less. but by millie's twentieth birthday , there is a shift. she isn't quite ready to recognize it , nor engage with it , fearing it may make it less of of a woman of her Faith. she worried that , if she thought too much , she'd fall into the rabbit hole of Temptation that those who live into their twenty-first too often face. of course, any regular Sunday Mass is able to serve as a distraction; but each sacrifical mass, even by the execution of kai, makes her on just how little time she has. and damn is she afraid.
those who witness her tears won't be able to pinpoint why she's crying. the identities of those at the altar were some she was familiar with; fellow babysitters , and herders , or simply friends. while most appeared stoic , she couldn't help but wonder what most of them felt ; having settled months into ideas did their ideologies shift to ones similar to dillon's? or were they gratified , pleased; finally , they'll be able to shed themselves from a word so cruel , sinful. embrace a divine immortality beyond this one where they were understood as the divine children of Abaddon, forever youthful. some might even feel as if they're doing a service , saving their future from a sickness that can't seem to be logically explained. millie should be proud , and by the idea itself she is , but she can't help but feel shamefully devastated. sick to her stomach . not even realizing it as she stares , barely blinking , seemingly lost in some distant realm as tears stream down her face.
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: center; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 1.4;"]I'M [I]HIGH AS A PRIVATE JET. â€â€