[ it's a cold comfort. condolences for damage that can't be undone, a life that can't be salvaged. years lost, and for what? nothing. there had been no purpose. no real argument to support her exile.
the response can hardly be called that. it's not a message so much as her own thought, revisited over and over, but finally able to surface as something intelligible that boils down at the root of all of this: it's not fair. ]
no subject
the response can hardly be called that. it's not a message so much as her own thought, revisited over and over, but finally able to surface as something intelligible that boils down at the root of all of this: it's not fair. ]