I guess you never can. And mister, give whatsitagain, will always have this, weird ass dent in its head, bumping into the signpost itself put, and then screaming, that everyone...doesn't really exist.
Which is, the only truth, afterall, really.
You are, rolling around in illusion... Of your own... Cavehoardings... That never truly, feed you.
Youwere, and are... Simply, always always, fulfilled... So that nothing... May ever feel, your way.
I farded
Poopy my poop