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I feel unusually tiresome. Voice deep inside keeps whispering: save all of your love for the journey, (you are going to need it).

What journey?

Even in dreams I've forgot what it feels to be the first person. Now and then so afraid of giving myself away, always so close to being an object. I- I- I-! I guess that if I had a car, this would be the kind of things I'd cry for.

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