Lately I have this feeling that I liken to being inside an egg. I am inside this egg and what I do with my life paints the inside of the shell and everywhere I look things aren’t so bad, since I’ve colored every bit of space in the shell. Yet there is a feeling deep in my lizard hindbrain that this shell is so much less than I think it is; a suspicion that it is nothing more than a shell and that if I broke it my world would open wide. But I’m not strong enough or focused enough to break it at the right spot.

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