Sometimes I feel that if I become a tad bit more cerebral than what I am now I am going to start losing my fascination with people and things. I fear that I might wake up one day and figure out the patterns to people's predictabilities.
Or maybe this is the reality that growing up brings: the realization that everything just depends on one thing or two, that the life we all live are echoes and repetitions of somebody else's.
Or maybe this is just my excuse to the fact that maybe I am losing my imagination.
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