findingself

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It’s hard to throw a mind onto paper. Perhaps it may burst open in the most unpleasant way, dripping through to who-knows-where. Perhaps it may shatter into a thousand pieces,
A wonderer -- A wanderer -- Imagine it! To be. Where you adjust your frame of mind to fit your every piece.  And every patch you thought was waste? And shard that pricked and screeched?
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