You are plagued by the creeping suspicion that nothing new or remarkable is left. Everything that happens has happened before. You are running in tired laps, exhausted, panting, and you cannot stop.
Writings from a deeply unwell human
You are plagued by the creeping suspicion that nothing new or remarkable is left. Everything that happens has happened before. You are running in tired laps, exhausted, panting, and you cannot stop.
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