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Juxtapose

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Night terrors, perturbed aberration, and persistent equivocation. The need to be alone but the hatred for being solitary. Accusations of purposeful alienation and negating the purpose of expression. Unable to converse without ripping asunder; envious of those who find their muse so peacefully when I can only conjure flummoxed worries holding nullity. I'm in an empty void, the world at my fingertips, but yet confined by immense neurosis. 






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