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I need a cleanse from all the rush I feel to get my goals right. Every day we fill our heads with things we want to accomplish before we die. Yet we never feel truly at home with what we’ve done so far. Everything is misplaced. Every decision is wrong once the outcome chances the light. The mirror on the wall tells me how shallow I am. It shows only my pimples. People around me act more at ease than I am on the inside. Every miracle turns to dust. Every written word is not as significant as when thought. Seven billion persons live on this earth and we all are alone. Loneliness is missing an ‘a’ to make it more civilized. We lie to ourselves. But the massive tragedy is how we believe them. They should invent a pill to forget about thinking this much. I need some slumber from this butterfly dream. You don’t exist. I created you!

ZB 

Copyrighting is yet another nail on our mental coffin!

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