Time flies, days past him by like the everflowing wind, sounding the chime in his head to remind him of every second that has past out of his existence. The second month is approaching, nothing seems to get any better, just the risk getting higher. The restlessness is neverending, never forgiving, self-inflicting perseverance on his own. Yet, nothing is still, nothing is calm, he just wants more, to be out of his head. It is murderous, yet it could not kill, but forever tormenting. The cure is just an illusion, there is no salvation. \m/
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