[chaoticandlittledramatic]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒑𝒆𝒐𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒏'𝒕 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔. 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒚'𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒚 𝒕𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒅𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚.

☽◯☾

[chaoticandlittledramatic]

𝘖𝘯𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺, 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘱𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘪𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦.

☽◯☾

[chaoticandlittledramatic]

[chaoticandlittledramatic]

ℕ𝕠 𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕥𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕤 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕘𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕗 𝕔𝕒𝕟 𝕝𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝕚𝕟𝕤𝕚𝕕𝕖 𝕒 𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕠𝕟 𝕨𝕙𝕠 𝕙𝕒𝕤𝕟'𝕥 𝕝𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕒𝕟𝕪𝕠𝕟𝕖.

𝕊𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖𝕤 𝕚𝕥 𝕚𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕙 𝕠𝕗 𝕨𝕙𝕠 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕨𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕤𝕦𝕡𝕡𝕠𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕖𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖.

𝕀 𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕔𝕙 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕠𝕗 𝕞𝕪𝕤𝕖𝕝𝕗 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕖𝕥 𝕞𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕤.

𝕄𝕪 𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕒𝕝𝕨𝕒𝕪𝕤 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕤 𝕓𝕒𝕔𝕜 𝕖𝕞𝕡𝕥𝕪.

𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕚𝕤 𝕒 𝕣𝕠𝕠𝕞 𝕚𝕟𝕤𝕚𝕕𝕖 𝕞𝕖 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕪 𝕘𝕠𝕠𝕕𝕓𝕪𝕖 𝕚𝕤 𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘.

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕠𝕠𝕣 𝕟𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕔𝕝𝕠𝕤𝕖𝕤.

𝕀 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥'𝕤 𝕨𝕙𝕪 𝕀 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕟𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥.

𝕀𝕥 𝕕𝕠𝕖𝕤𝕟'𝕥 𝕒𝕤𝕜 𝕞𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕖 𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕖𝕣.

𝕀𝕥 𝕛𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕤𝕚𝕥𝕤 𝕓𝕖𝕤𝕚𝕕𝕖 𝕞𝕖 𝕨𝕙𝕚𝕝𝕖 𝕀 𝕣𝕖𝕞𝕖𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕪 𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕠𝕟 𝕨𝕙𝕠 𝕞𝕒𝕕𝕖 𝕞𝕖 𝕗𝕖𝕖𝕝 𝕚𝕟𝕧𝕚𝕤𝕚𝕓𝕝𝕖—

𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕪 𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕠𝕗 𝕞𝕪𝕤𝕖𝕝𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕓𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕪.

𝕀𝕗 𝕞𝕪 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕡𝕤 𝕙𝕦𝕣𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘,

𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕚𝕥 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘.

𝕀𝕥 𝕨𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕠𝕟𝕝𝕪 𝕞𝕖𝕒𝕟

𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕚𝕤 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕝𝕖𝕗𝕥 𝕚𝕟𝕤𝕚𝕕𝕖 𝕞𝕖

𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕥𝕙 𝕓𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘.

☽◯☾

[chaoticandlittledramatic]

“𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕤 𝕠𝕟 𝕞𝕪 𝕤𝕡𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕥 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕀 𝕟𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕨𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕖. 𝕊𝕥𝕚𝕝𝕝, 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕥𝕖𝕝𝕝 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕪 𝕠𝕗 𝕒 𝕤𝕠𝕦𝕝 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕣𝕖𝕗𝕦𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕕𝕚𝕤𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕒𝕣.”

☽◯☾

[chaoticandlittledramatic]

ℂ𝕣𝕚𝕞𝕤𝕠𝕟 𝔼𝕔𝕙𝕠

𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕤𝕒𝕚𝕕 𝕞𝕪 𝕟𝕒𝕞𝕖 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕒 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕗𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟,

𝕃𝕠𝕨 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕕𝕒𝕣𝕜 𝕠𝕓𝕤𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟.

𝕐𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕓𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕙 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕧𝕪 𝕠𝕟 𝕞𝕪 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕠𝕒𝕥,

𝔸 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕖 𝕨𝕣𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕕 𝕚𝕟 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕪 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖.

𝕎𝕖 𝕞𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕕 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕟𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝕒 𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖,

𝕊𝕝𝕠𝕨 𝕕𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕦𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕚𝕟 𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕕𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖.

𝕐𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕠𝕦𝕔𝕙—𝕒 𝕤𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕜 𝕓𝕖𝕟𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕙 𝕞𝕪 𝕤𝕜𝕚𝕟,

𝕎𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕡 𝕓𝕠𝕥𝕙 𝕓𝕖𝕘𝕚𝕟.

𝔼𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕪 𝕜𝕚𝕤𝕤 𝕒 𝕓𝕣𝕦𝕚𝕤𝕖 𝕚𝕟 𝕓𝕝𝕠𝕠𝕞,

ℙ𝕖𝕣𝕗𝕦𝕞𝕖𝕕 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕤𝕨𝕖𝕒𝕥 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕤𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕥 𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕗𝕦𝕞𝕖.

𝔼𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕪 𝕘𝕒𝕤𝕡 𝕒 𝕗𝕣𝕒𝕘𝕚𝕝𝕖 𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕒

𝔽𝕠𝕣 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕥𝕠 𝕝𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕤𝕖𝕝𝕗 𝕚𝕟 𝕞𝕖.

𝔹𝕦𝕥 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕤 𝕕𝕖𝕧𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕤 𝕨𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕖—

𝕀𝕥 𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕗𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕙, 𝕚𝕥 𝕓𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕠𝕦𝕝.

𝔹𝕪 𝕕𝕒𝕨𝕟 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕤𝕚𝕕𝕖 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕔𝕠𝕝𝕕 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕓𝕒𝕣𝕖,

𝕆𝕟𝕝𝕪 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕖𝕔𝕙𝕠 𝕠𝕗 𝕕𝕖𝕤𝕡𝕒𝕚𝕣.

𝕐𝕖𝕥 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟 𝕟𝕠𝕨 𝕞𝕪 𝕓𝕠𝕕𝕪 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨𝕤

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕖𝕪𝕖𝕤 𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕔𝕝𝕠𝕤𝕖𝕕.

𝔻𝕖𝕤𝕚𝕣𝕖 𝕕𝕠𝕖𝕤 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕗𝕒𝕕𝕖 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕝𝕠𝕤𝕤—

𝕀𝕥 𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕧𝕖𝕤 𝕚𝕥𝕤 𝕟𝕒𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟 𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕤𝕥.

☽◯☾

[chaoticandlittledramatic]

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕃𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕦𝕒𝕘𝕖 𝕠𝕗 ℝ𝕖𝕕

𝕐𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕤𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕟𝕤 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕠 𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕟𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥,

𝕥𝕨𝕠 𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝕗𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖𝕕 𝕝𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥,

𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕒𝕚𝕣 𝕓𝕖𝕥𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕦𝕤 𝕥𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕗𝕝𝕒𝕞𝕖,

𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕨𝕙𝕚𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕕 𝕓𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕙 𝕒𝕘𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕤𝕥 𝕞𝕪 𝕟𝕒𝕞𝕖.

ℕ𝕠 𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕝𝕤 𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖, 𝕟𝕠 𝕤𝕠𝕗𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕖𝕕 𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕒—

𝕛𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕥, 𝕦𝕟𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕕, 𝕦𝕟𝕣𝕒𝕧𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕞𝕖.

𝕐𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕠𝕦𝕔𝕙, 𝕒 𝕤𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕜 𝕒𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕘 𝕞𝕪 𝕤𝕜𝕚𝕟,

𝕒 𝕤𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕥 𝕔𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕒𝕡𝕤𝕖 𝕀’𝕞 𝕗𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟.

𝕎𝕖 𝕞𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕨𝕣𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕕 𝕚𝕟 𝕣𝕙𝕪𝕞𝕖,

𝕝𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕡𝕦𝕝𝕤𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖,

𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕤 𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕠𝕗 𝕚𝕟 𝕓𝕝𝕠𝕠𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕣𝕖𝕕,

𝕒 𝕤𝕚𝕝𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕦𝕒𝕘𝕖 𝕓𝕠𝕕𝕪-𝕤𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕.

𝕎𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕓𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕜𝕤, 𝕨𝕖’𝕝𝕝 𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕣𝕖𝕞𝕒𝕚𝕟—

𝕥𝕨𝕠 𝕓𝕣𝕦𝕚𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕓𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕗𝕝𝕒𝕞𝕖,

𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕜𝕖𝕕 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕓𝕪 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕓𝕪 𝕕𝕖𝕤𝕚𝕣𝕖,

𝕒𝕤𝕙 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕖𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣, 𝕤𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕜 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖.

☽◯☾

[chaoticandlittledramatic]

“𝔾𝕣𝕚𝕡”

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕜𝕟𝕚𝕗𝕖 𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕜 𝕕𝕖𝕖𝕡, 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕓𝕝𝕠𝕠𝕕 𝕣𝕒𝕟 𝕣𝕖𝕕,

𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕞𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕓𝕖𝕕.

ℕ𝕠 𝕤𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞, 𝕟𝕠 𝕗𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥, 𝕛𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕝𝕚𝕡𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕖𝕖𝕥𝕙,

𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕙𝕦𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕝𝕖𝕕 𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕟𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕙.

𝕄𝕪 𝕟𝕒𝕚𝕝𝕤 𝕔𝕦𝕥 𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕤 𝕒𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕘 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕤𝕜𝕚𝕟,

𝕒 𝕣𝕖𝕕-𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕕 𝕞𝕒𝕡 𝕠𝕗 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕀’𝕕 𝕓𝕖𝕖𝕟.

ℍ𝕖 𝕘𝕒𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕕, 𝕙𝕖 𝕞𝕠𝕒𝕟𝕖𝕕, 𝕪𝕖𝕥 𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕕 𝕞𝕖 𝕥𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥,

𝕒 𝕡𝕦𝕝𝕤𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕟𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥.

𝔼𝕒𝕔𝕙 𝕕𝕣𝕠𝕡 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕗𝕖𝕝𝕝 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕠𝕗 𝕨𝕖 𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕕,

𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕙𝕖 𝕨𝕙𝕚𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕕, “𝔻𝕠 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕.”

𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕘𝕣𝕚𝕡, 𝕤𝕠 𝕕𝕒𝕣𝕜, 𝕤𝕠 𝕤𝕝𝕠𝕨,

𝕀 𝕗𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕𝕟’𝕥 𝕘𝕠.

☽◯☾

[chaoticandlittledramatic]

𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕙 𝕚𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕠𝕟𝕝𝕪 𝕔𝕖𝕣𝕥𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕪 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕕𝕠𝕖𝕤 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕗𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣; 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕖𝕝𝕤𝕖 𝕚𝕤 𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕡𝕠𝕤𝕥𝕡𝕠𝕟𝕖𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥.

☽◯☾

[chaoticandlittledramatic]

"𝔻𝕖𝕓𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨𝕤"

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕝𝕠𝕔𝕜 𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕤 𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕔𝕣𝕠𝕠𝕜𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕖𝕖𝕥𝕙,

𝕀𝕥 𝕙𝕦𝕞𝕤 𝕞𝕪 𝕟𝕒𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕪 𝕓𝕖𝕒𝕥.

𝕎𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕤 𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕟 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕠 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕣 𝕞𝕖 𝕗𝕒𝕚𝕝,

𝔻𝕦𝕤𝕥-𝕗𝕚𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕕 𝕡𝕣𝕒𝕪𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕘𝕣𝕠𝕨 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕡𝕒𝕝𝕖.

𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨𝕤 𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕥𝕔𝕙 𝕞𝕪 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕨𝕚𝕟𝕖,

𝔹𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕙𝕠𝕡𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕠𝕥𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕣𝕙𝕪𝕞𝕖.

𝕎𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕕𝕒𝕨𝕟 𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕤, 𝕚𝕥 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕤 𝕥𝕠𝕠 𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕖—

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕦𝕟 𝕛𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕚𝕞𝕚𝕥𝕒𝕥𝕖.

☽◯☾

[chaoticandlittledramatic]

"𝕐𝕠𝕦’𝕣𝕖 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕧𝕚𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕞, 𝕪𝕠𝕦’𝕣𝕖 𝕛𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕞𝕒𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕗𝕚𝕟𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕓𝕖𝕒𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕒𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕠𝕨𝕟 𝕘𝕒𝕞𝕖."

☽◯☾

[chaoticandlittledramatic]

"𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕟𝕘𝕥𝕙 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕓𝕦𝕚𝕝𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕚𝕣𝕠𝕟, 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕨𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕟 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕓𝕣𝕠𝕜𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕕 𝕚𝕥𝕤𝕖𝕝𝕗 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕘𝕠𝕝𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕. ℍ𝕖𝕣 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕠𝕤𝕦𝕣𝕖 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕞𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕡𝕚𝕖𝕔𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕒 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕖𝕥 𝕗𝕖𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤, 𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕗𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕝𝕪 𝕓𝕒𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖𝕕—𝕒 𝕙𝕦𝕞𝕒𝕟 𝕒𝕣𝕔𝕙𝕚𝕥𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕝𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕤𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 𝕨𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕟𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕒𝕣𝕪 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕠𝕟𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕤, 𝕟𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕗𝕝𝕒𝕨𝕤."

☽◯☾

[chaoticandlittledramatic]

𝕀 𝕕𝕠 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕓𝕖𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕞𝕠𝕠𝕟 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕞𝕖𝕣𝕔𝕪—

𝕤𝕙𝕖 𝕚𝕤 𝕞𝕪 𝕓𝕝𝕠𝕠𝕕, 𝕞𝕪 𝕤𝕡𝕚𝕟𝕖, 𝕞𝕪 𝕧𝕠𝕨.

𝕀 𝕤𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕡𝕖𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕝𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕠 𝕕𝕒𝕘𝕘𝕖𝕣𝕤,

𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕗𝕖𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕟𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖 𝕟𝕠𝕨.

𝕃𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕞 𝕔𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕔𝕦𝕣𝕤𝕖𝕕, 𝕦𝕟𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕪—

𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕚𝕣 𝕥𝕠𝕟𝕘𝕦𝕖𝕤 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣, 𝕀 𝕒𝕞 𝕗𝕝𝕒𝕞𝕖.

𝕀 𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕖 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕞𝕤, 𝕦𝕟𝕥𝕒𝕞𝕖𝕕, 𝕚𝕞𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕥𝕒𝕝,

𝕒 𝕤𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 𝕔𝕣𝕠𝕨𝕟𝕖𝕕, 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕚𝕣 𝕟𝕒𝕞𝕖.

☽◯☾

[chaoticandlittledramatic]

𝕋𝕙𝕖 ℂ𝕒𝕘𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝔾𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕤 𝔹𝕠𝕟𝕖𝕤

ℍ𝕖 𝕓𝕦𝕚𝕝𝕥 𝕞𝕖 𝕒 𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕕𝕣𝕒𝕝 𝕠𝕗 𝕨𝕙𝕚𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕤,

𝕚𝕥𝕤 𝕨𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕠𝕨𝕤 𝕔𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕕 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕧𝕖𝕟𝕠𝕞𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝕝𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥.

𝔼𝕒𝕔𝕙 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕, 𝕒 𝕤𝕖𝕣𝕡𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕔𝕠𝕚𝕝𝕖𝕕 𝕚𝕟 𝕡𝕣𝕒𝕪𝕖𝕣,

𝕤𝕝𝕚𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕕𝕠𝕨𝕟 𝕞𝕪 𝕤𝕡𝕚𝕟𝕖 𝕒𝕥 𝕟𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥.

ℍ𝕚𝕤 𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕤 𝕨𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕔𝕝𝕒𝕡𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕚𝕣𝕠𝕟,

𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕓𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕙—𝕒𝕟 𝕒𝕝𝕥𝕒𝕣’𝕤 𝕤𝕞𝕠𝕜𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕒𝕤𝕙.

𝕀 𝕜𝕟𝕖𝕝𝕥 𝕓𝕖𝕟𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕙 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕤𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨,

𝕨𝕙𝕚𝕝𝕖 𝕞𝕪 𝕧𝕖𝕚𝕟𝕤 𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕟𝕖𝕕 𝕣𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕘𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕤.

𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕒 𝕔𝕣𝕠𝕨𝕟 𝕠𝕗 𝕣𝕦𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕣𝕟𝕤,

𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕕𝕖𝕖𝕡 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕠 𝕞𝕪 𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕠𝕨 𝕓𝕣𝕠𝕨.

ℍ𝕖 𝕔𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕕 𝕚𝕥 𝕕𝕖𝕧𝕠𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟, 𝕀 𝕔𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕕 𝕚𝕥 𝕤𝕚𝕝𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖—

𝕒 𝕧𝕠𝕨 𝕠𝕗 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕤 𝕀 𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕪 𝕟𝕠𝕨.

𝕐𝕖𝕥 𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕝𝕝, 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕣𝕦𝕚𝕟’𝕤 𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕚𝕣,

𝕒 𝕧𝕠𝕚𝕔𝕖 𝕒𝕨𝕒𝕜𝕖𝕟𝕤, 𝕤𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕡 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕨𝕚𝕝𝕕:

𝕒 𝕡𝕙𝕠𝕖𝕟𝕚𝕩 𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕣𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕖𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣𝕤,

𝕟𝕠 𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕣 𝕧𝕚𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕞, 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕖𝕩𝕚𝕝𝕖.

𝔽𝕠𝕣 𝕞𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕕𝕨𝕖𝕝𝕝 𝕚𝕟 𝕘𝕚𝕝𝕕𝕖𝕕 𝕣𝕠𝕠𝕞𝕤,

𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕘𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕥𝕤 𝕔𝕒𝕟 𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕟 𝕥𝕠 𝕗𝕝𝕖𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕚𝕣 𝕙𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕤.

𝕀 𝕒𝕞 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕙𝕒𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣, 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕣𝕠𝕜𝕖𝕟 𝕞𝕚𝕣𝕣𝕠𝕣,

𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕕𝕤, 𝕒 𝕓𝕝𝕒𝕕𝕖 𝕚𝕤 𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕘𝕖𝕕.

☽◯☾

[chaoticandlittledramatic]

“𝕀 𝕒𝕞 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕔𝕣𝕦𝕖𝕝 𝕓𝕪 𝕒𝕔𝕔𝕚𝕕𝕖𝕟𝕥; 𝕀 𝕒𝕞 𝕔𝕣𝕦𝕖𝕝 𝕓𝕖𝕔𝕒𝕦𝕤𝕖 𝕔𝕣𝕦𝕖𝕝𝕥𝕪 𝕚𝕤 𝕙𝕠𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕥.”

☽◯☾

[chaoticandlittledramatic]

"𝕄𝕠𝕠𝕟𝕝𝕚𝕥 𝔸𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕤"

𝕀𝕟 𝕧𝕖𝕝𝕧𝕖𝕥 𝕟𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥, 𝕀 𝕨𝕖𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕪 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕,

𝕆𝕗 𝕨𝕙𝕚𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕕 𝕔𝕦𝕣𝕤𝕖𝕤, 𝕤𝕠𝕗𝕥𝕝𝕪 𝕤𝕒𝕚𝕕,

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕣𝕒𝕧𝕖𝕟’𝕤 𝕨𝕚𝕟𝕘, 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕝𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕜𝕟𝕚𝕗𝕖,

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨 𝕡𝕦𝕝𝕤𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕣𝕤 𝕞𝕪 𝕝𝕚𝕗𝕖.

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕝𝕖𝕤 𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕚𝕣 𝕒𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕤,

𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕕𝕣𝕚𝕡 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕨𝕖𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕞𝕪 𝕗𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕤,

𝕐𝕖𝕥 𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕀 𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕒𝕦𝕝𝕕𝕣𝕠𝕟 𝕕𝕖𝕖𝕡,

𝕎𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕤𝕖𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕥𝕤 𝕨𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕤𝕝𝕖𝕖𝕡.

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕥 𝕙𝕦𝕞𝕤 𝕒 𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕠𝕨 𝕙𝕪𝕞𝕟,

𝕀𝕥𝕤 𝕖𝕕𝕘𝕖𝕤 𝕤𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕡, 𝕚𝕥𝕤 𝕡𝕒𝕥𝕙𝕨𝕒𝕪𝕤 𝕕𝕚𝕞,

𝔼𝕒𝕔𝕙 𝕣𝕠𝕠𝕥 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕣𝕟 𝕒 𝕤𝕒𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕕 𝕤𝕚𝕘𝕟,

𝔼𝕒𝕔𝕙 𝕖𝕔𝕙𝕠, 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕠𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕝𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖.

𝕀 𝕕𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕞, 𝕀 𝕓𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕗𝕝𝕒𝕞𝕖,

𝕀 𝕨𝕖𝕒𝕣 𝕟𝕠 𝕔𝕣𝕠𝕨𝕟, 𝕪𝕖𝕥 𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕕 𝕞𝕪 𝕟𝕒𝕞𝕖,

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕕𝕟𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕒𝕚𝕣, 𝕚𝕥 𝕓𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕞𝕖,

𝔽𝕠𝕣 𝕀 𝕒𝕞 𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕, 𝕪𝕖𝕥 𝕀 𝕒𝕞 𝕗𝕣𝕖𝕖.

𝕊𝕠 𝕝𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕤 𝕒𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕚𝕣 𝕘𝕒𝕫𝕖,

𝕀 𝕓𝕝𝕠𝕠𝕞 𝕚𝕟 𝕟𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥, 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕤𝕦𝕟𝕝𝕚𝕥 𝕕𝕒𝕪𝕤,

𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕒𝕨𝕟 𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕘𝕖𝕥𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕖,

𝕀’𝕝𝕝 𝕓𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕒𝕣𝕜 𝕓𝕖𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕕 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕖𝕪𝕖𝕤.

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[chaoticandlittledramatic]

“𝕍𝕖𝕚𝕝-𝕊𝕥𝕚𝕥𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕣’𝕤 ℂ𝕣𝕖𝕖𝕕”

𝕀𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕠𝕨 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕤𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕨𝕤 𝕜𝕖𝕖𝕡,

𝕀 𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕥𝕔𝕙 𝕞𝕪 𝕨𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙 𝕥𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕝𝕖𝕕 𝕤𝕝𝕖𝕖𝕡,

𝕎𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕔𝕣𝕠𝕨𝕓𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕞 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕤𝕖𝕣𝕡𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕥𝕠𝕟𝕘𝕦𝕖,

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕚𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕙𝕪𝕞𝕟 𝕠𝕗 𝕕𝕠𝕠𝕞 𝕚𝕤 𝕤𝕦𝕟𝕘.

𝔹𝕝𝕒𝕔𝕜𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕣𝕟 𝕣𝕠𝕠𝕥𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝕤𝕡𝕚𝕣𝕒𝕝 𝕘𝕣𝕠𝕨,

𝔻𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕝𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕠𝕟𝕖𝕤 𝕤𝕠𝕨,

𝕋𝕙𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙 𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕠𝕨’𝕤 𝕘𝕒𝕥𝕖, 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙 𝕤𝕠𝕦𝕝’𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕,

𝕀 𝕔𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕨𝕙𝕚𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕣 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕖𝕒𝕕.

𝕄𝕠𝕠𝕟 𝕕𝕣𝕚𝕡𝕤 𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕜 𝕠𝕟 𝕒𝕝𝕥𝕒𝕣 𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕟𝕖,

𝕊𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕤 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕜𝕟𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝕕𝕒𝕣𝕜𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕠𝕨𝕟,

ℂ𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕝𝕖𝕤 𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕖𝕕 𝕚𝕟 𝕞𝕠𝕝𝕥𝕖𝕟 𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞𝕤,

𝔽𝕖𝕖𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕧𝕚𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤, 𝕗𝕖𝕖𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞𝕤.

ℕ𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕓𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕤 𝕝𝕠𝕨 𝕥𝕠 𝕜𝕚𝕤𝕤 𝕞𝕪 𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕕,

𝕊𝕒𝕝𝕥 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕒𝕤𝕙 𝕕𝕣𝕒𝕨 𝕤𝕒𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕕 𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕕,

ℂ𝕚𝕣𝕔𝕝𝕖 𝕔𝕝𝕠𝕤𝕖𝕕, 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕧𝕖𝕚𝕝 𝕚𝕤 𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕟,

𝔽𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕕𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕙’𝕤 𝕠𝕨𝕟 𝕨𝕠𝕞𝕓, 𝕞𝕪 𝕗𝕒𝕥𝕖 𝕚𝕤 𝕓𝕠𝕣𝕟.

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