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So much has been going on. So much hasn't been going on. I feel like my life is on pause, frozen, doesn't exist at times. I exist in the upside down and this is my punishment? No. I am just waxing poetic because I haven't vomited out thoughts from my head recently enough. It gets backed up. The more it gets backed up, it gets fermented and flowery - the language.  I know my place here in this house would get more difficult over time. That was inevitable. As my grandmother seeks more attention out I must surrender more...
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