Twenty to eleven, and I do not feel as terrible as I did the other day. Strange how easily swayed emotions are. Well. I was not counting on me being so fickle. 'Tis' but a fact of life!' Is the valiant cry in return. Ah, indeed. Though perhaps I should be thankful I am not so set in my ways as of yet. From an undefinable impression is an equally undefinable conviction—or something of that sort, at least, from what I gathered from the Prince (or the Idiot, depending on your ideas). Youth! Lo! these impressionable minds. Unreliable as we are, you forgive us! For you cannot help but look for us in every memory you reminisce.
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