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And I think I want to smoke weed because I’m boring, and maybe I should just be fun/better/happy/sad/upset/exited all at once.
Maybe the dark will overpower light, and the sun will cease to shine. Maybe I’ll sprout wings between my shoulder blades, (where I’m supposed to get a tattoo), fly through the stratosphere and just float in the Milky Way Galaxy. There would be stars everywhere, my brothers and sisters. My family. Maybe time will stop and give us time to think, finally. The world will be frozen, and then when the world is released from its paused state, rain will defy the laws of gravity, and will travel from the ground and land in the clouds. Backwards. Maybe we’ll all live underwater, and breathe with gills and be beautiful, colorful, swimming creatures. Maybe there will be no words, maybe we will just all be physical beings; our actions being the words we are unable to speak.
Maybe when we die we become stars again, and it starts all over.
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