Oh, wretched alarm clock, how I loathe your cruel, unblinking stare. Would only that your march of time briefly halt, indeed, would it not inexorably continue onward, we might be able to coexist peacefully. I'm a thorn tree in a whirlwind, caught in the middle of a battle of wits between you, dastardly purveyor of cold reality, and my own body,
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