03-23-2020, 08:42 PM
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; line-height: 150%; color: #494949; font-family: karla; font-size: 9pt; letter-spacing: 0.2px; word-spacing: 2px; margin-top: 10px;"]little lassie , her father used to call her. except she's not so little anymore.
tell lassie a year ago that her love affair with the leader of a cult would result in her untimely rise to leadership , and she wouldn't believe you. before this life she'd been nothing more than a caretaker of both grandmother and father; trying to keep one alive physically, while the other she tried to keep alive mentally. communication beyond that isn't much of a given , she had no choice but to entertain herself; her fantasies seized by the same three disney movies, an endless supply of instruments from her fathers band geek days, and the twenty-something library she managed to forage when she sometimes snuck out to the garden village: resident home in the middle of the night.
somehow , despite it all , lassie managed to retain her fight. a young man by the name of ricky found her , took her here, and she'd fallen in love countless times: the community, who loved with every inch of themselves. the environment, which is something lassie only could imagine in her dreams. and last but not least him. amadeus. of course, she wasn't the only one who was infatuated. just about everyone worshipped him. but lassie couldn't help but watch him— every gesture, every word— everything so graceful ... so angelic. it only made sense that when he left, a part of her did, too. she cried for days. maybe harder than she did when her blood died. to some, it might've not made sense. but amadeus gave her something that she hadn't managed to ever have at home. . . a sense of belonging.
she had to wipe her tears , though. as long as amadeus gone, she wouldn't let his people be lost; lassie was unafraid of a crowd, particularly this one. something told her she harbored a responsibility; that if her love for amadeus was true, she'd do what was right. she starts a fire that reaches to the heavens on the beachside, playing the ukulele singing softly, a tune her father used to love. riptide. once the beach was populated, she'd break the news.
tell lassie a year ago that her love affair with the leader of a cult would result in her untimely rise to leadership , and she wouldn't believe you. before this life she'd been nothing more than a caretaker of both grandmother and father; trying to keep one alive physically, while the other she tried to keep alive mentally. communication beyond that isn't much of a given , she had no choice but to entertain herself; her fantasies seized by the same three disney movies, an endless supply of instruments from her fathers band geek days, and the twenty-something library she managed to forage when she sometimes snuck out to the garden village: resident home in the middle of the night.
somehow , despite it all , lassie managed to retain her fight. a young man by the name of ricky found her , took her here, and she'd fallen in love countless times: the community, who loved with every inch of themselves. the environment, which is something lassie only could imagine in her dreams. and last but not least him. amadeus. of course, she wasn't the only one who was infatuated. just about everyone worshipped him. but lassie couldn't help but watch him— every gesture, every word— everything so graceful ... so angelic. it only made sense that when he left, a part of her did, too. she cried for days. maybe harder than she did when her blood died. to some, it might've not made sense. but amadeus gave her something that she hadn't managed to ever have at home. . . a sense of belonging.
she had to wipe her tears , though. as long as amadeus gone, she wouldn't let his people be lost; lassie was unafraid of a crowd, particularly this one. something told her she harbored a responsibility; that if her love for amadeus was true, she'd do what was right. she starts a fire that reaches to the heavens on the beachside, playing the ukulele singing softly, a tune her father used to love. riptide. once the beach was populated, she'd break the news.
[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€