I write you this record of how our relationship has changed, both as a reminder of our original purity, and an acknowledgment of my own madness. Is it possible that our memories are correct, even though we know them to be false? Is it possible that today was not as it was yesterday? That such changes have been made as to negate our ability to find certain things uniquely nightmarish, but to instead accept them as normal and right even though we know they are not?
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