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I awoke the other night in darkness literal and metaphorical and found myself in a forlorn state, feeling overwhelmed by the busyness of the world, love-less in an empty bed, and isolated from my friends in New York. I had forgotten myself.
I was afraid to turn on the lamp (to shed harsh light on reality), so I laid there quietly feeling the night expanding around me. What am I? What am I failing to do? What is my purpose in this life?
As I stared into the inky blackness, I noticed sparks of light could it be inspiration? Maybe it was just random firings of overworked neurons.
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