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I use my "existentialism" to excuse my career, but the reality is, I haven't felt anything real in years. It's not my philosophy, it's my brain. Something is wrong with me.
At this point my dreams seep into my waking life; I can no longer tell the two apart.
I am losing my sense of self -- exponentially, i might add -- and it is making life quite interesting.
A raging battle between flesh and spirit!
Or rather, a murderous young woman with lust for blood.