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what is possible, is therefore inevitable: I will
live and then I will die. This is only terrifying
when a death, extrapolated, becomes more
absolute than the act of dying in itself; as if
the act of living and the act of dying are the only
verbs we’ll ever do–and in doing so we will
never know if we are alive and slowly dying,
or if we are living to eventually die, or if there
is even a difference or a point in asking because
to live and to die are intransitive–actions lacking
object: performed alienations. Empty fucking
signifiers. I will live and then I will die–writing
of this dispossession; knowing my words will
never make an open door out of death.

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