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lycanthrope
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he was around a lot of what would seem to most people random acts. rash decisions that people just jumped to. but he wondered what made something a rash decision. did just thinking about it a lot make it a better one? and he knew people had to have thought these things over somewhere. he was there when his co-worker's wife came in and delivered a basket full of dead insects as a way of announcing she'd discovered his affairs. he was there when his friend during their college years, while tripping on mushrooms, had jumped off a bridge in amsterdam shouting, if i wanted to kill myself you couldn't stop me. he had landed in the water six feet down and been fine, but it was still more interesting to him than it seemed to the rest of his friends. most people shrugged off such events as random, as attributed to the drug or the moment or whatever. but he knew that not just any brain would come to this or that particular conclusion. he often wanted to ask his friend if he'd thought that phrase before he took those drugs, but he didn't want to break the code of silence. he felt a world apart from the people who could act in the ways they thought, but he also felt a world apart from the people who denied the significance of such actions, the presence such thoughts and desires must've always had throughout each of the mundane days everyone else chose to define that person with. he seemed to have a keen awareness of how close everyone was at all times, to a world changing decision, to a jump, or a stab, or a kiss. and he found great beauty in those moments when those decisions burst through. and he feared greatly, where his own would take him, when the moment came.
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040202
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