Nothing much makes sense: the 10 tabs I have for that presentation next week, that language dossier, that reading I have to do. Moments of confusion, a feeling of a distant memory that these were once important. I grow more and more convinced that we live within an illusory world we have to fight to emerge from with our own will. We tread a deceptive line where the daily endeavour is to reach such recognition. I don't know whether to be sympathetic to myself and the people around me. I don't know whether it is naive to hold hope that we know, that in our own ways we will supplant it.
As for now, we are still caught. Day in and day out, the same worries and frustrations. I struggle to find a voice to drown out those loudest, amplified by the very things that I have grown accustomed to believing.
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