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Chapter of Loathing
I look ahead at my book of empty pages
Pages wanting to be filled with knowledge and creativity
with hope, inspiration, exploration and insanity
beautiful, colorful pages.
I envisioned the beautiful things that could be achieved, the things I could create, the color I could barely imagine.
It was all just out of reach for whatever lack of skill or creativity.
I was sick of being talentless and completely sane.
I wanted to smear these beautifully colorless pages with the blood of my mentality.
So I wrote a chapter of loathing.

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