.~~:*§§£## ##£§§*:~~.
..~~:*§§£# #£§§*:~~..
.~~:*§§£## ##£§§*:~~.
..~~:*§§£# #£§§*:~~..
.~~:*§§£## ##£§§*:~~.
..~~:*§§£# #£§§*:~~..
.~~:*§§£## now, usually i feel good (maybe?), but ##£§§*:~~.
..~~:*§§£# this time of confusion also leads to #£§§*:~~..
.~~:*§§£## all analyzes ending in "useless" - i ##£§§*:~~.
..~~:*§§£# was being bothered by something in a #£§§*:~~..
.~~:*§§£## song or movie or book, so i think, how ##£§§*:~~.
..~~:*§§£# would i have done it, what is the #£§§*:~~..
.~~:*§§£## purpose of this process, what does it ##£§§*:~~.
..~~:*§§£# consist of...? and through the process #£§§*:~~..
.~~:*§§£## more and more pieces falls off until ##£§§*:~~.
..~~:*§§£# i'm standing there with nothing. #£§§*:~~..
.~~:*§§£## ##£§§*:~~.
..~~:*§§£# reductionist hell - #£§§*:~~..
.~~:*§§£## i wan't a bottom floor, a concept ##£§§*:~~.
..~~:*§§£# bedrock, but the deeper i go the more #£§§*:~~..
.~~:*§§£## abstract they are, the things, until ##£§§*:~~.
..~~:*§§£# they cease to be things at all #£§§*:~~..
.~~:*§§£## ##£§§*:~~.
..~~:*§§£# are we just stacked triangles? there is #£§§*:~~..
.~~:*§§£## nothing i can do with triangles. they ##£§§*:~~.
..~~:*§§£# can not shelter me in any meaningful #£§§*:~~..
.~~:*§§£## sense. ##£§§*:~~.
..~~:*§§£# #£§§*:~~..
.~~:*§§£## and when i can't even anchor myself, ##£§§*:~~.
..~~:*§§£# when i am nothing but the question, it #£§§*:~~..
.~~:*§§£## feels like it can all slip through my ##£§§*:~~.
..~~:*§§£# fingers... "whoops", and nothing ever #£§§*:~~..
.~~:*§§£## was after that. ##£§§*:~~.
..~~:*§§£# #£§§*:~~..
.~~:*§§£## ##£§§*:~~.
..~~:*§§£# #£§§*:~~..
.~~:*§§£## ##£§§*:~~.
..~~:*§§£# #£§§*:~~..