The battle rages, as I desperately sought the words that I thought I knew well. This confused state of debilitation corresponds the internal turmoil that I thought was over. My mind blanks, withdraws into the familiar shell of darkness. It is a familiar state bordering sickness and wellness.
The evening descends, as the sorrow reigns in its pure, unadulterated form, I reach out to the connective states of sick-wellness in my previous modes of life. I am unsuitable for anything. What would I do?
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