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Very interesting, as what I see is a person with a face with eyes just like mine, staring into the pupils of their eyes. I find beauty in this recursive gazing because i realize there's an infinite number of combinations of being which I can choose to be me.

Note: this works well when your pupils are dialated to the size of dinner plates, but is not a requirement.

"Psydereal, they want you in the counselor's office."

Holy shit. I go to the bathroom first, and stare at my pupils in the mirror. Not only are they the size of dinner plates, but they're asymetrical as well. I wasn't paranoid before, but now it must be obvious to anyone who looks at me that I'm tripping...

"So if you want to go to college here, you can find a French class at a local university..."

She's been looking straight into my eyes the entire time. How come she hasn't said anything? She has to know! My pupils are eating my face! I must not giggle, I must not giggle...

God, that was the longest, scariest time ever spent in the high school counselor's office.

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