Each day slips into the next, repeating the displeasure of the last. I wake up early from half completed REM sleep - somewhere between a dream and a pillow
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I've had a few ideas brewing in my head over the last week or so and decided to concentrate them to text publicly. Sometimes I feel like Kafka in that I privately write out what I consider garbage and only spew on the bits publicly that I enjoy most
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I don't precisely recall the dream but it had something to do with me accidentally killing someone I cared about. I think? I know I just kept coming back to life but it hurt.
Often my body, my flesh, my soul, and everything in between feels torn in two. It is hard to explain without sounding like an egoist in need of sympathy
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