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Life is in circles, of cycles. I start, I walk, and I return to the same starting point (of no point). Similar people, in search of temporary ego boosts of affection. Much predictable, them and I( No surprise!)

Life moves, I move, from things, people and the person (the usual, shutting myself out. Hide away from trouble! Run! Run! Run! To the cave! Run!). Indifference, boredom, stagnation, and then nothingness. I was on phase three. It had arrived too fast, with too much ease, and lack of effort. It becomes too easy when things get clearer, empty words, and inaction. Typing be easier, than any effort. You hate words, you hate lines of words, you hate paragraphs. And you hate those words that were typed to indicate closeness, meaningless closeness, of words of senselessness.

Walk away, far away, from trouble. Of hypocrisy, and words.