Concurrently speaking

Cid once said that I was his Final Fantasy Cid lied...or did he? I am thinking of all the sweet cucumber melon frits I have eaten. And as a strenuous Soul once said to the Earth Goddess, "I am impeccable.", I roared back, "Impudity." For I once was a seagull, high in dementia. Now I'm a porecilan pear just barely stinging TO dementia; my collar bone has no quarries. I am alone in this vast world unraveling, unwavering itself as a steady snail's pace at me, unto me. Unto ME. For why in the world am I in such worry, Fizzle-Mc-Drizzle? Why am I seeing myself grope and sweep and sweat the night away into musty odors fit like a king of Barnaely? Have I no compassion? The voice I hear as my echoing consciousness from Spirit World seems to think so. For what world have I come from, strange inaudible Titan Atlas and Atticus still murmuring over the book, "To kill a Mockingbird?" Am I THAT preconscious? Have I no compassion? The voice I hear inside my echoing head seems to think so from Spirit World. Oh! Spitit Word...! Oh, of WGAT?