Huhuth

I no longer hope that someone would understand me. Maybe it’s an impossible pipe dream anyway. Who can really know what’s behind that wall of bone and tissue, what’s in our skulls?

Futility.

I contemplate living with a simplified interface to the world while a more complex kernel spins and broils within the self, to be let out as art or writings (carefully concealed of course in self protection). A hero in my own skull. Well, one has to be a hero somewhere.

Whatever.

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