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  • There is a bruise on your arm, one you have never seen before. You stare at it, wondering what could possibly have bumped into you in the last day to land you with a big purple circle that throbs every time you touch it.


    “I woke up, went to the bathroom, went to work, came back, watched TV and went to bed. Woke up, went to the bathroom, went to work, came back, watched TV and went to bed….” Again and again you repeat your day like you’ve forgotten the most important part in a chemistry exam and it just won’t come to you.


    The circle stares at you, mocking you, knowing you’d never get it and waits. It radiates heat from the strained blood vessels. Then, subconsciously, unknowingly you start to touch it. You poke it and prod it and squeeze and it hurts every single time.


    Your hand gets used to it, hurting yourself, and you find yourself daydreaming about your day, about her, about what you should have done or what could have happened. All the while it still sits there, a poked, prodded, purple hot bruise.


    And hour later the purple is lined with a halo of red, an angry crimson aura protesting your own touch against your own skin.


    You look at it as you come out from your haze of memories and day dreams. You’ve forgotten the purple-red bruise on your skin. You see, you’ve been too busy poking and prodding at your other bruises to notice.
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