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Perhaps, for what it's worth, this can be diagnosed. Is it some… Narcissus Effect?

Self-worth; self-love; self-lust – every word spoken, a love letter unto oneself. Every sin, born of Dante's Hell; or maybe not some Italian masterwork, but Greek, like Narcissus himself. Pridegreedenvyslothgluttonywrathlust

Is this nothing but bloodless doom; a curse? Narcissus – or some wicked fairytale queen, asking for the crown of the fairest in the land?

It's difficult, not to get swept away… Perhaps impossible…

All the same… It's certainly worth drowning in.

It hurts unbearably, to love a part of yourself. Some would believe it wonderful, to be so absolutely confident in yourself that you could fall in love, but it isn't wonderful at all. It hurts, because the "person" you can't love, simply can't give you a reason why you shouldn't love them…

It's nothing but a dead end; deathless despair; utter, endless torment in Dante's Hell. But then again… maybe I've already drowned.

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