If I walk the thin line between reality and surreality, I would find myself transported into the default settings of an ancient valley. I would be fighting dinosaurs and drinking blood from a crudely crafted container. I would be ruthlessly defiant of my desires and needs. I would be the recurring nightmare of my nemesis and the conscience of my soul(mate).
And then maybe my conscious choices would be more permissible, and my struggle more comprehensible. And understanding becomes a burden that I could just shrug off.
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