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I have too much .. , In me. Too much sturm und drang, too much that I want To be (that no one should ever * want *to be, that I don't Really want to be) so much that eventually boils up inside and sputters and fumes. And dies. I don't know where it goes, or even really why it shows up at all. To annoy? Tease ? Symptoms of the road not taken - but I've caressed that rotten tooth before. Not pain, but the dull acknowledgment of old pain that just gave up, or that you got so used to that "pain" has taken on a different meaning.

Or I could just be reacting to physiological realities and a particular choice in reading materials. Cause or effect? Circular reasoning, really. An oroborus effect, with different beginnings and endings that nevertheless feed into each other unceasingly.

Mmm. Stays crunchy in milk.