A diary [in prose]

…As I sat down,just sat,thinking about life,I realized I had nothing  more to write.What was I to do? I carried on in my musings,so many hours had passed this way I tell you!I must stress I say that in all honesty,you must believe me.I expect you do,I am just worrying over nothing.Please tell me,why does this internal dialogue never cease? Of course it is because I am alive and conscious,but the ‘voices’ in my head never stop,I know I must return [endlessly]to the place where I must,yet I will never forget,I cannot say anymore…

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