Aware only that I’ve been stricken by an unnamable ailment as my body begins to convulse, my thoughts turn grim. My teeth clench involuntarily, painfully, as my mouth becomes uncomfortably dry. My eyes grow wide and stare forth, yet I do not see. Truly, I am not prepared for the horror of the thing. But my serenity is illusory, maintained by a veil of ignorance that, once lifted, will have me yearning for merciful nepenthe. My left hand never far from a frosty lager, my feet propped up on a subwoofer that’s slowly churning out some obscure Scandinavian metal I’ll probably never have time to review as I lean back in my chair and mindlessly scour the world wide web: this is my life at this moment, I am content. My right hand glides about, forefinger tapping here and there with a reverberant *click* as accompaniment. It’s 2:35 in the AM and I’m sitting at my computer, yet again.
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