Hey I Saw Ur Post Abt Reader’s Block And What Usually Works For Me Is Switching Up Genres Or Subgenres

"I love you. You may as well take my heart Catherine it's already full of you." "Please go!" "What is it? What's wrong my dear?" "You know nothing about me….you've known me only three weeks!" "Three weeks? Catherine I've known you all my life." "All your life?" "It's true, when I heard beautiful music I thought, 'she'd like that'. I looked at flowers knowing that one day I'd give them to you." "Oh stop, stop." "But for my heart there is another love that must come before you, my country."

—Masquerade,

Dangerously Yours

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What would you think if The Chosen had Judas not immediately die from the hanging? Instead, he was taken down and rejoices when he hears rumors of Jesus resurrection before soon dying of his neck injury.

It would a bit controversial to the watchers of the show as Judas dying before witnessing the resurrection of Christ is very essential to the plot. Judas died without ever seeking Christ's forgiveness even though Jesus would have already forgiven him. Him being present for the resurrection would mean he had the chance to ask Jesus for his forgiveness which affects the whole plot.

"I wanted to be loved so desperately that my fingers shook with it, I am not beautiful but I could be" ― Emily Palermo

𝘐𝘯 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵'𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭, 𝘛𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘴, 𝘰'𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘭, 𝘈 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘯, 𝘢 𝘨𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘳, 𝘈 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱, 𝘢 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘯𝘰 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦.

—Unknown author, The Last Unicorn (inspired by Peter S. Beagle’s novel)

Sometimes I wonder if people even realize how cruel they can be without saying a word. The way they look at me—cold, dismissive, like I’m something to laugh at or pity. It’s not always about what they say; sometimes it’s just the way they carry themselves around me, like I’m less. I feel overlooked all the time, like I’m just floating in the background, waiting for someone to actually see me. And I hate how much I want to be seen, especially by him. I hate how I catch myself hoping for even a glance from him. It makes me feel pathetic, like I’m betraying myself just to feel worthy for a moment. These past few days, I’ve been so angry. Just simmering beneath the surface. I keep snapping in my head, getting irritated at everything. I’m starting to feel like the angry little girl I worked so hard to bury, the one who, for years, carried the weight of her father’s rage. I hate how deeply I feel things, how sensitive I am. Lately, I’ve been drowning. Not in a river, but under the weight of never feeling satisfied with life.

—A lady and Her Quill, Letters to Dead Children: Ophelia's Journal Entries

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“Naphtali is a doe set free that bears beautiful fawns.''--Gen 49:21