âWeâ didnât talk about anything. Stop trying to implant your ideas in my head, you brainwasher. Just âcause Imogenâs got you journaling for your witch shit doesnât mean Iâm on board. Words are your thing, not mine. And, I probably would tell you, but hell if I know how to describe it. But, God, you sound like such a freak, please, Mars.
Canât be implantinâ things if theyâre already there; I mean, I couldâa sworn we talked âbout this way back when? Or what if Iâd told you âbout dream journals in a dream of mine? I donât doubt it, Noâ - you know how Iâm no good when it comes to seperatinâ the real and the fake, that shit gets almost too real sometimes. Câmon though, do you remember anything at all?Â











