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I'm not worth understanding.
Oh, the fucking irony of it all! The sweet delusions applying to reality, the fucking irony of it all! Reality is a creation of my senses, my senses live truly within my mind. The sweet fucking lunacy of it all! The unexplainable purpose and the rectifying capabilites. Free me! Free me! Leave me droughted of my desire to seize existence, Live into me the actualities that burn simply in my mediocrity. Sweet fucking diversions! The planet cannot exist so simple as not to test me. Challenge me like I'm the underdog of society, the defect in humanity. I will rise against my situations of degration, keep the ruin flowing into me like my breathe is dire to feel. Purpose, purpose to live, purpose to fight, purpose to fight to live is all I truly crave. Nausea swells into me when I cross the boundries between indulgence and glutteny, But the releif of control has never felt so satisfying. The relief of undoing has never felt so regretful.