Should I say anything about my life here, and now, all I know is that I cannot believe my eyes, ears and so on, more than what I feel about it; and what I feel about it is that I just don't belong here, nor now; that I don't belong these people, this place, with no exception for this particular writing person, which should be my own place, "me".
Remember the words of that guy in "Dark city" just before he jumps under a running train: "It's a joke!"; and THIS is the only way I can understand it now, yet I still don't know how to stand it.
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