The hardest thing is finding you when I have been trapped in a muddle, in a disorder, in time. Indeed, I can’t break away. I can’t go back. Tell me that I can break a blackhole. Should I be smelted like photon?
The hardest thing is seeing you when the world almost stops spinning in my head. Just in my head. Should I stop seeing you?
Now I ask you, Happiness. Do you exist?
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