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tonight, as in every night, you cannot feel the void because you are it. no hole inside you that can be fixed. just shattered glass. do you know what happiness is if you've never felt it? do you know who you are if broken mirrors don't reflect themselves? what does glass do but cut? is it enough to awkwardly reflect light? is it art? what is the point if there is no enough? what is the point if not to make the universe brighter? and why would that ever be the point?
-cgi.