i dunno what my story is, but apparently teetering on the edge of exhaustion makes me want to write and write. i can’t explain it. maybe it’s because my internal censor isn’t quite up to par and i just go on and on without worrying about what an idiot i’ll sound like. or maybe because in this state i am more like i want to be and not give a rat’s ass what anyone thinks of such nonsense. i love nonsense.
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