As the story I am about to tell is wild, I neither anticipate nor seek your trust. If I expect such a belief then I would be considered deranged, but I am not and therefore I am sane. I am only recounting a series of events, without wanting to elucidate them, because such a feat is almost impossible. From my youth, I always had the gift of acting and basked in the glory of a successful production. I attended theater college at the California Institute of the Arts and, as luck would have it, I found my future wife there. We planned to get married immediately after graduation and looked forward to our future together. On the day of the wedding, “while walking along the pews in a church hallway,” I couldn’t help but overhear an unbearable conversation between a bridesmaid and a groomsman. “What a beautiful wedding!” » declared the maid of honor. “Quite true, madam,” said the best man, “but what a shame that the poor groom’s bride is a whore!” » At that moment, my rage took over me. I wanted to scream at these two. Had they ever heard of the concept of whispering? Why didn't they have the decency to exchange their horrible words behind closed doors? Did they have respect? Then, before something bad happened, my conscience calmed my anger and helped me recognize the importance of maintaining “a sense of balance and rationality.” Crumpling up my intuition and throwing it away like a worthless piece of paper, I decided to investigate further before doing anything rash (participle). I've wanted to marry this woman for four years – I wouldn't let trivial gossip destroy our special day. From the darkness at the opposite end of the corridor, a tall figure emerged. Wearing a red overcoat with a black top hat, grabbing a wand, the man hides... in the middle of a paper... in the scene. The majority remained motionless, struck by shock, trying to make sense of this spectacle. Afterwards, as the man in the red overcoat and black top hat entered the room, his ability to be ignored by everyone in the entire room surprised me. I marveled at this effect it produced, almost like invisibility... And that's when I suddenly realized. It seemed strangely familiar, but I couldn't decipher why. Only I could see it, only I could hear it. He led me to the room where I discovered my wife's secret, where I saved myself from a life doomed to failure. Now I didn't know if what I had witnessed was the truth or a figment of my imagination. Frankly, I didn't care. I greeted them all with a smile and called for a toast. Raising my glass, I laughed and announced, “To the happy couple!” » Works CitedPanic at the disco's song i write sins