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August 10, 2011
Restless. Agitated. I want to join the storm outside. I want to be shaken and beaten by the thunder, to drown in the rain. I want fight the wind and let it tear apart my screams.

I want to run, run, run, but I'm too tired to move. A hostage in my own body.

If it were not for this exhaustion, this cruel and unrelenting puppet-master of my limbs, I would be gone already. I would be on the streets, pouring my jittery vibrations into the air like a disease.

I want to infect the world.