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[01 Jan 2012|06:38am] |
keep the streets empty for me There is a beginning and end to everything. Every thing. Everything will die. These words are fact, and truth. I used to lay awake at night, after my grandma would tuck me in, and simply think and think myself into a frenzy of fear. I'd panic, holding myself and shaking, weeping and wondering. . . What is life?; what is mortality? Phobias and paranoia would roll and re-roll around in my head, and I'd end up staying awake into morning, waiting until the sun rose to finally close my eyes. Sometimes I still do.
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