Where did all of my ideas go?

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I guess it got easier as time went on but it was never striped from me, the memories. They are apart of me now.  And I think about it a lot, how I could of avoided it. All the pain and suffering. It didn’t have to end up like this. The realization of the world is far too real and my perception of my own life is non-existent, it’s a relief now that I can move on. Maybe things will turn out differently. In the end, does it really matter?

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