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Nights are where my mind uses my saved stress to play out a story of rumination. It does this for me when I find the peace that can’t obtain the goods that I assumed were lies.
The wounded healer is a savor who only want to help for her sins. The wounded healer is strong minded but we train it to be passive.
We, the humans, a species clothed in grey, Powerful at birth but mundane with age, Forgotten magic, lost in the race, Slaves of our own hunger. What a prison, this world is,