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I managed to give myself a helluva therapy hangover from group this morning...
It wasn't *bad*, and I don't feel bad... My whole body just feels like my ears after a rock concert...
I'm too jittery to do anything. This emotions business is nuts. Just sayin'.
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'...
At poor peace I sing
To you strangers (though song
Is a burning and crested act,
The fire of birds in
The world's turning wood,
For my sawn, splay sounds,)
...'
Dylan Thomas, Author's Prologue
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