I guess it's easy to say my eyes are never dry. Salty liquid explodes from the tiny sockets of my eyes invading the creases of my skin. It's the comfortable sadness of my tiny imaginary world. If only it were truly a figment of my imagination, but no. Reality, it hits like the very first snowfall. Calm and steady at first, beautiful even, so I dare say. Suddenly the wind blows harder, the flakes move faster, my vision is gone. Some stray easily away from the storm, while others get caught wandering in infinite circles of pure misery until one I'd able to pull them out. But the others have saved themselves, and it is only those courageous who will go back and guide the hopeless back to hope.
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