Sometimes those over-simplified, pointedly pointless, self-help blurbs come to fruition. My work really is separate from me.
No, that is a lie, I don't believe that. I believe the opposite. I believe every nuanced mark and every absent scrawl is a culmination of my existence.
But I should pretend I do believe it, at least for tonight. At least to everyone else, at least for my sake.
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