a-humorista
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What a strange thing to consider imagining a world into being with nothing but words, intention, and desire. It's a troubling paradox - I have total control, but only to the extend that I have control over myself. My emotions. My inner storm. The secret engines that drive me. If there are infinite worlds, how do I find the one that is uniquely, specifically mine?
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all the 9 to 5ers scrolling through tumblr at 7am like we're reading the morning paper. raising our coffee cups in greeting by reblogging each others posts.
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