At times, I am engulfed in a state of disorientation, wandering in the vast expanse of my mind, until I stumble upon a place where I come face to face with my Ego, Id, and Libido. It is a surreal encounter, leaving me feeling both lost and found.
In that moment, I am consumed by a sense of emptiness, a nothingness that permeates my entire being, yet it is also beautiful in its own right. The silence is deafening, yet the stillness is enchanting, allowing me to bask in the glory of nothingness.
It is a state of mind that leaves me feeling frustrated, as I struggle to make sense of my thoughts and feelings. The physicality of it is equally daunting, as it drags me down a path that I do not wish to tread. Reading and writing become a chore, a task that I cannot bring myself to do.
I have never encountered the Muse of letters, and even if I had, I would not dare waste the precious moments of my absurdity and nothingness. It is in this abundance of nothingness that I feel a nocturnal glory, a sense of greatness without the need to be anyone or anything.
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