My meaning
July 4, 2022•400 words
I thought I had it.
As a 20-something year old, I had a suite of thoughts. Constructs. Packages. They were my lens through which I saw, made sense of - and talked about - the world. In the most unimaginably cruel way, like a cheap plastic tarp is ripped continuously while strapped to a senselessly speeding B double, my certainty crumbled. It hadn't waned, at least not seemed to. It simply ceased to be, as if overnight. But it was brutal.
At the time, in the madness, I could hardly make sense...
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