I commit myself to a sanitarium of iron-clad resolve. I am afflicted with the leprosy of strong and strident values; made numb to the impacts of ignorance. I wear a plague-doctor's mask made of contentment and what-me-worry. It helps to mask everyone's fear of the unknown. I am shunned for my unorthodox disfigurement, and candid embraces. I quarantine myself, alone with my blessing and pretension.
I tell people not to worry-- it isn't contagious.
8:19 p.m. - 2015-02-10
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