I look at the present from the past as if it were the future.
So you
are living
in the past...
It would seem.
That's not good. You're not going to make it very far.
Who are you again?
Don't remember.
Neither do I. Do I? Wait, I think I know you. You're my memories of her.
"Stardust"
But you're not very clear. You're growing dim. Covered in dust... Does anyone care that I'm losing her forever? That she'll never be back! She's gone and no one cares.
You care.
But I can't do anything about it. I tried to write it all down after she was gone, but my brain won't work. My brain won't work anymore.
She was brain dead... and you?
Uncontrollable weeping. Painridden. Unconsolable.
There's no hope. Why am I having a conversation with the faded memories of my suicide-
Of her.
You have a better chance
Of saving her
If there's more than one
of you, of you, of you.
I hate myselves.
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