I am trapped, I have my insecurities but things do sound the same, but not exactly, it's based on what I can't. and cannot publish. that's a story no one can tell only I can tell, the short story of the midnight mood and the missing treasure in the 1700s when joe and Harlem stash cash it was hidden in mood chapter 707 its a little hidden tail beyond the jumbie river where souls are lost, to make a long story short, mood swings patrollers was alarm like I remember yesterday by the narvia swamp thinking about something to talk about because people memories are loss I wish the gods can return and try to socialize on the media like always, like the moody day when I wake up I realize that I had a bad nightmare. I was awakened by all these short dreams that began with short stories that I talk about here there and everywhere to continue by being hooked on mood