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my wants are unattainable. it doesn't make any sense.

no, it makes perfect sense.
location. appearence limits. limits. limits. everything, alana, everything.

**where are you? where are you?

there is no start to begin at. there is no way to decipher. there is no way.
it's just another turn from the corridor. and i'm shutting the door now.
i am confusing you aren't i?

**there is no one, just the outline of a person that is the definition of perfection. no name. no face. an idea. a creation of a mind that is uncapable of achieving... you are nothing.