Why Am I Awake? (pt II)

I started with simple stories. The kind you could digest in a single sitting. Most of them were only a hundred words. Some were longer. It didn’t really matter. They were all s**t.

I was just trying to get something off my mind. I couldn’t say what; I couldn’t ever get it off either.

It stuck with me. It hung in there like blood hangs from a limb. I couldn’t get rid of the impending sense of being senseless.

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Author's Note

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