i have a problem

i am currently stuck in a very large pickle. and the pickle has a pickle too. most pickles there's a way out, but not my pickle. my pickle must be pregnant or something, cos i'm stuck in this pickle and really have no way of escaping it's vinegar-y depths. well, there's one way.
to let time heal it.
but then again, as tom felton so wisely stated in a song that basically describes my pickle (not exactly, but to an extent), time isn't healing.
so basically i'm stuck in the bottom of a deep, dark pit filled with pickles and my only comfort is listening to the song time isn't healing and knowing that a bunch of other people are screwed too.
because my pickle is the most cliche, most common pickle of all.
i'm in love with someone who doesn't love me back.
who can't love me.
i'm in love with edmund pevensie.
he's fucking fictional. and he's dead.

the quick brown fox jumped over the snoozy dog.

this post is different. there's something wrong with it. not wrong, but there's something not quite right.
let's discuss chickens. my chickens (the ones who live on my property) tend to be difficult to live with. mo is very loud. the morning is the best time to be loud, he thinks. i think he likes the mornings best just to bug us.
did you guess the wrong yet?
no?
you know, i don't get why chickens end up being judged with such cruelty. everyone believes chickens to be DUMB! or FRIGHTENED! or simply un-bold.
would you like to know the wrong?
well, in this post one letter is missing. it isn't used once throughout the entire thing. the letter? guess.