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Eventually, not

My hands feel older now, the other parts pale in comparison to this funny sensation. Stimulating, perhaps not, would the least be the last thing on my mind. There's no time to spare, not even my very own sexual desires. Perhaps it's best I please myself when all of these are made undone, makes it much more easier indeed, or perhaps it's only time for change to step up and rise above the hate. What goes around comes around, what goes up must go down.

When I take my fingers off this keyboard, I best be on my way. Back to a stoic state of discontent.

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