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- “Pot, painkillers, sedatives, alcohol,” he whispered into his microcassette recorder, sitting wrapped in a blanket in the closet of his bedroom, filled with an all-too-familiar nameless dread. “Keeping life’s painful absurdities at bay is a top priority, and I’ll ingest pretty much anything to that end.”
- Midnight Psychic Wasteland | Fiada Fey
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