The hours slip through my fingers like water that can never be held. And in that fluidity, the ramblings whisper to me: "Do you truly live, or merely survive?" The answer fades, vanishing like a mirage that recedes the closer I try to get. My being exists in a state of constant contradiction: I seek stability, yet everything around me crumbles. I am an incomplete, faltering structure, striving to build meaning where only scattered fragments remain.
Is existence merely a series of detours leading nowhere, or is there something in these deviations that holds the true essence of who I am? Perhaps ramblings are not just an escape from reality, but a way to see beyond the surface, to touch the deepest fibers of human experience. Maybe, within the whirlwind of scattered thoughts, the answer lies hidden: in the constant back-and-forth of my mind, the unique melody of my life resounds.
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