I'm overwhelmed. It's become really hard to think; "think" being a weak attempt to catalyze expression, which itself is a notion of coherent contemplation that resists my realization. My perception is scattered. Rumination, not introspection, examines the machinations I suspect myself to have employed. I had prepared a delight for my thoughts; wonderful constellations connecting new information in captivating patterns. But saturated with curiosity, the chaos will only perseverate. Now, I'm embattled; my inspiration my enemy, my confusion my fortification. 
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