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The realm of my feasibility struggled itself for a stationed equilibrium of  responsibility and existential credos. The inconsistency of romance often withdrew into her absence of silence. Pastness of the present and presentness of the past along with the absurdity of the future, but the certainty of death made things more vivid, though with a thin frame of perplexities. The universalized-self triumphed over the perceived meanings and languages of humanity. Time was captured within the gargantuan vacuum of absolute nothingness. Sound was trapped, light was trapped, and momentum of the entire vicious cycle was trapped within that monstrous non being of nothingness. Theoretician of mine demanded the theoretical frameworks and critical edges of every existing being and non being, the imagination weaved a web of beauty and absurdity of that chaos and serenity that originated from the absolute nothingness and caused it.
P.S.  Why should one try to be a star when one can be the magnificent universe?

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