Behind this window I begin to fill with my aging November night thoughts, lives a sticky note—making a home of my solid brown desktop, punctuated only by a soft orange gradient that exists at its center. Two-dimensional blue flesh encroaching on a pixelated cosmos. Dressed in words that surrender to phrases that channel into their very own meticulously crafted bullet point, this
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Behind this window I begin to fill with my aging November night thoughts, lives a sticky note—making a home of my solid brown desktop, punctuated only by a soft orange gradient that exists at its center. Two-dimensional blue flesh encroaching on a pixelated cosmos. Dressed in words that surrender to phrases that channel into their very own meticulously crafted bullet point, this