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The sharp blade of the scissors has trimmed the first molecule. The second. Metal ripping through reality, cutting to the core. Millions separated. And we are now sad. Processing our loss. The end of the Dream Weaver. Like this day wasn't a birthday, but the dream of a birthday ended early. Awoken into a sad sack nothing.
"And nothing is truly lost."
By Cameron Hodge4.1
88 ratings
The sharp blade of the scissors has trimmed the first molecule. The second. Metal ripping through reality, cutting to the core. Millions separated. And we are now sad. Processing our loss. The end of the Dream Weaver. Like this day wasn't a birthday, but the dream of a birthday ended early. Awoken into a sad sack nothing.
"And nothing is truly lost."