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  • Sleep is restless.
    I sweat, feel my rabbit heart pounding in my ears. I don't think I know who I am anymore.
    I have de-constructed myself over the years. Pulled out all of my thoughts, examined them, examined myself and then re-examined the world. I feel lost in a confused inertia, plagued by doubts, by fears, by uncertainty.
    I fill my brain, my heart, my lungs, my gut, my soul, with garbage. It dulls the slow throb of time; that is it dulls the slow throb of decay.
    The world is an inexplicable thing to me now. I feel myself as part of the heartbeat of drumming life, the steady cadence of civilization rising and falling.
    I'm not depressed, just aware. Acceptance has taken its time settling in. Hence the "garbage".
    I haven't been writing much. I don't have much to contribute other than confusion and dismay at the world around me.
    I find my self of two minds. Burn it down. Build it up.
    I think the same thoughts about my own life.

    It is such a struggle to be fearless. I've always been a burner. I've never really been a builder. It's a thought that gives me pause and has me questioning everything I thought I believed in. And the only thing I'm certain of at this point, is that I must proceed forward. And master my fears.
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