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  • And as we push on that plight becomes the culling of our inner selves, an extermination of individuality piecing apart personal pieces until all that's left are shards of nothingness, put them together and the puzzle is still there, without solution, without compromise, only thoughts and shrapnel that together forms memory, priorly suppressed by time, and experience, but the culling hasn't stopped. It hasn't stopped ripping resonance from our resistance, set to frequencies that all lead to a vibration on which we do not equate ourselves. Equilibrium, erased by choice, decisions pushing toward further self deprecation of our "what used to be(s)". Until those memories become hearsay, scribbled on the headstones of our predecessors, an essence of singularity shrouded in the multiplicity of current existence. Selective solitude becoming less selective. Privacy less private. Until all is known by all. And individuality expressed by none.
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