It turns out, time isn't just a linear progression. Nope. It's more like a vast, unorganised sock drawer. Each moment, a new sock appears. Some match, some don't, but they all get washed together in the end.
But don't just think of time like any ordinary sock drawer. Oh no. It's got depth, complexity, and a hint of existential dread. Socks get lost, eaten by the void, and never returned. That's you. You're just a lone sock, floating in the abyss.
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