Thank you messenger for delivering the wrong package. But I forgive you. To those that receive: The vague line drawn between knowing how things are and just not even caring is clear enough to draw a much clearer conclusion. On the ladder of immaturity, I'm sure I rank somewhere highly on this particular rooftop. But certainly, I'm not alone. It was the other [who set the ladder up] to begin with. Still I manage not to care. It's much appreciated if early-sun routines aren't tampered with unless by one's own will, otherwise one just looks pitiful. So I suggest you put on your tough girl gear and Deal With It, because it's not I that is there for you, rather the ones that are so closely bonded to you. The ones who choose to stab me [in the front], perhaps the ones who take a stab at my heart, rather than intruding on an innocent spinal cord. This isn't meant to offend, but to amend. Or simply put, just don't think I want to interfere with you. The truth is easily stretched, so clear your mind of the smog. Forgiveness is done, and acceptence is done. I suggest the same for the rest. -Love