Can it stop? Or do you just keep falling into an abyss with absolutely no end in sight, except THE END? Existentialist thought seems predominant.
Once again, time to turn a new leaf. So many new leaves....it's like autumn every single day of the year. I feel I am burying myself in a pile of dead leaves in trying to turn green ever so often. The burden of expectations gets more and more onerous to bear...Atlas like almost.
Ironically, the Existentialist hopes. Paradox, anyone?
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