I think of those discriminating emotions... the tendencies, the things which regard importance itself as influential and inherently personable. Insofar as I know anything at all, that is - I feel somewhat bookish, in-read, overloaded, and I imagine my distress following within some swathe of calamity, verisimilitude, and relentless intimacy. I cannot help but attest the significance of these petty discoveries as if their uncovering relied upon, or in some way thoroughly expressed, a kind of watershed. All is hubris; and such sustainings provoke only difficult times. Their frequency troubles me. I continuously find myself cited in their lists.

I mention this out of desperation.

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