fresh pine

for what use is this bombardment of my psyche, this robbery of my sound mind? how does it benefit this species’ survival? this rewind, this edit, this futile imaginary replay. hope, i scowl at you. i give you the dirtiest stare i can muster. you are useless, you dreamer, and you cause only trouble. you waste the fibers of my being through which you are so tightly woven. you are an imbecile that knows nothing of statistics, and i would put a swift end to your pathetic existence if i could only detach it from mine.

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