normality is a paved road. ‎ ‎it's comfortable to walk, but no flowers grow. so, she planted her own gardens, decorated all on her own, bare-handed, rather than waiting for someone to give them to her like what her former peers and boyfriend had expected — after all, you cannot use someone else's map to find yourself. ‎ ‎the goal is to be pretty and disgustingly educated, to get her stupid boyfie back. but her plans changed cause he's worth no shit. plus, being pretty is not a crime, you know. so, she didn't raise her voice. she spoke nothing. she sat. instead, she improve her argument. so here she was, fabulous in court. ‎ ‎but, oh dear, entering the bigger picture really does it's thing—like wearing white after labor day—just not happening and ugh, total split-end situation that even a mani-pedi or shopping couldn't fix— she like lose 45% cases in a year. the crimes and people are nutsos. but the lawyers? young or old? the worst! they're beasts chewing her up and her clients. ‎ ‎but the one who stands out the most, the one who could shove up the magnificent law monsters back under the bed? you. and she knows you're doing it right when people get scared of you debating— and that was the reason she started fancying you. well, only curious. promise. lawyers never lie. well, except when they need to protect attorney-client privilege. but, oh well, who wouldn't get curious if you're someone who leave no crumbs? ‎ ‎well, love is nothing without friendship. but, problem is. can you see that when you're blind? like, literally.