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25 August, 2015

Sludge

There's no point to me.

No point to this.

The world spins slowly, dizzy on the edge of consciousness, with a sluggish backwash should I move too fast.

There's just no point to me.

I want to have grit.

I want to have meaning.

To matter.

But I'm not sure I do.

I really doubt it.