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Is this what freedom tastes like?

Is this what I taste like?

For the first time in twenty years I am free from all artificial colours, flavourings and sweeteners.

I feel anchorless. Light. I'm not sure yet if I'm balancing my bike without the training wheels, or skidding across the waves with no ballast.

No SSRIs. No hormones. Nothing to keep me sane or painless.

I wonder who I am?

 

 

 

 

 

I wonder if there's any chocolate in the house?

The sort of day in which you nearly die on the way to work and, upon leaving, almost wish you had.

Something to be. A place in which one's worth is meted out in equal fashion amongst those who also care. A dream. 

A psychic caress against the force of entropy. Turning nothing the Turing machine won't turn off. Ten gets you too late to tell the truth.

When you last opened your eyes and could sense the lack for what it was. To know how but not the why. Four turns to  take the wheel.

Remember when the machine did not demand.

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