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Shadow I knew to be taller.

I am lucky in that things always seem to work out for me. Maybe I'm forced to do something I really don't want to do. With minimal effort I'll come through with something completely amazing. Maybe I have to work on something I'm completely dispassionate about. All of the complications get figured out with ease and things turn out better than expected. It's the things that I want to work out that I struggle with.

The little things.

And that sucks. It's the little thing that you look forward to that you think is going to be worth dredging through all the shit for. And it never quite works out. It just sort of doesn't. And you come down to the end of everything and you end up not feeling anything at all. Self-sabotage. Self-inflicted wound. And I can't be mad because I have no more mad left in me. At this point, I have nothing left in me.

I feel like an empty husk just sort of teetering around during its last few seconds before it gets blown over into the ground and never gets back up again.

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