I don’t think I have time for this. For this reverse paradox we’re identifying sucking pouch technology, wearing SeeD clothes, learning arcane animal capture rules from Chocoboy, blowing a ChocoWhis, scattering chicobos, losing cards, defining the concept of Home, meeting Selphie’s Friend, developing whatever, reading about Ehrgeiz, drawing zombie from a graveyard, fixing a computer…

A ball rolls onto the court. Today, on the baller’s field, we’re determining why the sorceress is the sorceress, enshrining Selphie in the party, questioning the use of violence, showing growth through command, shooting a free throw, gaslighting the whole party, becoming children, camping at the beach, hogging sis, misdirecting affection, forcing love, losing memories,…

Yes, we will kill mom. In this uniquely arranged hell we’re acquiring more depression in Trabia, betting on the MogMogMoogle Team, building a god-blessed glove, preparing a cursed motivational speech, cruising past a deer, taking our buddy’s ring, fighting to prove we belong, launching motorbikes, holding onto a cliffside for two hours, ignoring the previous…

FATIGUED. We’re excessively caffeinated and we’re rubbing Gardens, doing sick poses in unison, looking for Mark, improvising a fighting game, observing the Braveheart Effect, giving our special boy ring a name, combing through dorms, killing hockey monsters, meeting a Cerberus, confronting Seifer, missing gunblade pulls, rising like a broken puppet, drawing Alexander, and closing out…