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this is honestly really hard to listen to. i was so much more full of life. the last few seconds of me being excited about my name is cute
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i think i’m going to be sick
in case you’re wondering why i can appear so hard-line when talking about the corrosive affects of labor, this is why. it is not an exaggeration at all to say that this version of myself has died - rather, was murdered. i am now incapable of joy.
i would give anything for freedom to (once again) no longer be my ideal.

even just a few months ago, i had the enviable position of being frustrated with my predicament. my body has gone stiff after thrashing about in agony; i’m unable to even muster a pitiful twitch. my eyes have dulled; adorno’s nightmare has been realized in my silent crawl onward.