She is as wild as the wind. She is spools of thread wound so tightly that it would take a lifetime to untangle her; who has that kind of time? She is the girl that cannot help but have forty million thoughts per hour and thus writing is simply a release, a catharsis of sorts, for the immensely pressurized realm of dazzling magic that is her mind. Her own special brand of madness; splayed bare for the masses. But aren’t we all a little mad, after all?
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