Strangely, this is the most autobiographical work I have written; it's mad, for sure. But my life has been mad; I have experienced things that I have found are actually quite common: reality seems dream-like. It poisons those who embrace it as a dream, but the dream-like nature of things can't be escaped. It is almost as if I escaped from a dream into reality, only to have the dream converging back on me from all directions, beckoning with a siren song to abandon reality, abandon life. But it's a fantasy; it cannot be done, it is drinking the kool-aid, but one can write about drinking the kool-aid without actually doing so.
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