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I lost the control again.

The foothold.

I'm going downhill.

Out of the wonderful, flower-lined world.

Into the grey, monotonous world of the washouts.

That's what I am without you.

A washout.

I can't even handle my own depressions.

But you told me I have to try it for at least one week.

And I am trying.

Two more days.

In this grey world.

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