Red Bull is like crack, only you don't have to stick it up your nose or into your arm. Wait--can you stick crack in your arm? I don't think it's something that you can shoot up, maybe.
It is one-thirty in the morning and my mind is like my story, breaking down and reshaping itself. My subconcious squirmed out from my grip. It slipped away and is shredding two months of hard work to ribbons. ...okay, maybe it wasn't hard work, but even so.
Even so, I love these characters. Since November, Elise and Levi have grown from two images in my head to breathing, thinking people. (Well, Elise has. Levi's working on it.) Elise, that girl in my head, deserves a story. I'm not going to throw it away on the whim of a fickle mind. Even if said mind is my own.
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