foreword

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11.11. It has been a particular time wherein I'm in full hope, crossing my fingers as I make wishes to manifest things in my life, as if the heavens were listening and have been in favor of me. What makes me wish is when my mind is clouded with things I desire for myself or just a single thought of what the future might hold, or when I'm thinking of people I've met along the way to wish them either the best rewards life could give them or the worst things they will ever regret. Yet, no matter how propitious or ill-fated my wishes may be, I have been longing to confess what I want to say to all of them. well, that's actually the wish I want to happen on this day.

This is a confession to who I was, who I became, and who I will be, with whom I have lived, grown up, been ghosted by, been bewitched by, and to whom I want to cling every time the clock strikes 11:11.

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