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This is another letter.

Dear Lilly,
It is pretty unusual the way things works inside my head. I sometimes am sure of my own insanity for quite too often I have created a whole story - drama story mostly - about single facts of life. This behaviour has nearly driven me to madness as I suffer from the things I created my own, always based in assumptions I make, and these assumptions are based on what I would absolutely love to call drugs but they are not.
Because I consider myself intelligent, I believe in every single idea I have, every single assumption. You know Li, Shakespeare was wrong. Assumption is a green-eyed monster. I assumed something was wrong with you because I had this feeling I needed to tell you how much found of you am I, thus creating a whole problem in your life, getting worried about you and suffering from the lack of hability to help you with your my-mind-only-knows problem.
I deeply hope I am wrong this time like I always am. Always.

And although I really enjoy writing you, enough with the letters already.

Sincerely,
Goddaughter