But why?
Why can't I feel like this for the rest of my life?
Because, little one, the world wants us crushed up and torn apart.
But why?
Does it feel nothing?
We're part of it aren't we?
If we hurt, it must feel something.
It does, little one.
It feels everything you feel.
It sees everything you see.
Then why?
Does it like the pain?
No, little one, it does
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