If this isn’t worth it, then something else must be. Fallen angels and misplaced grandeur. At every corner for the taking. Broken haloes and indifferent light. Someday it will all shine in reclaimed splendour. Bide your time.
I distrust familiarity. I do not have the strength to build any more anchors. I do not like the sound of my own voice. I am obsessed with myself. I like being served cold. I love a good climax and a seething end.