I was feeling quite ... odd one day, and wrote this:
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full erasure has been achieved. i am a blank slate. my mind is fresh, open to new ideas, without preconceptions of old ideas. a formidable piece of silly putty in an as-yet indescribable shape, waiting for warm comforting hands to hold and mold and scold me into something quite erasable just to erase again is this resurrection or a bad dream will i remember the pre erasure not perfect maybe where will mommy go and will she cry
It's not really a particularly good piece of writing, or insightful, but the reason I like it (despite having written tons of objectively better things) is that in its chaos, it was a very apt description of how my mind was working that day.
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