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,:«\*£§@@# 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. #@@§£*\«:,
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,:«\*£§@@# 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. #@@§£*\«:,
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