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Speaking to his back, vying for his attention, getting a hard no, then

slinking back to my chamber. When did it come to this? I know the

answer. It is the same as always. Always the same. The always same as in

Non-Einstein’s definition of insanity. The follower voice says “don’t be so

sensitive.” I like her less and less after I found out she is a liar. My Scorpio

moon doesn’t compromise on betrayal. I know the answer. I also know

how I feel about the answer. Not yet. Not today. Not the right time. Same

as always. Always the same. The always same. There is a deep groove in

the floor from turning this over in my head. Posing the question, posing

the question, posing the question. Never being comfortable with the

answer. Pretending to not know that comfort is the opposite of the answer.

I distract myself by picking at scabs. It is a short-lived fix. I try again. I ask

the question. I know the answer. I punch myself, fall down, get up, always.


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