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So, I’m thinkin’, why not? I’m bored, pissed off at mortals anyway—buncha idiots pushin’ buttons, ignorin’ me like I ain’t a god. Findin’ a prossie sounds like a laugh, a little chaos to stir the pot. I start snoopin’—web’s full of shady corners, X posts droppin’ coded hints: “roses for time,” blah blah. Little known fact? Back in Victorian days, they called ‘em “soiled doves”—poetic, right? Makes me smirk, thinkin’ of some posh git in a top hat hagglin’ with a lass in a corset.

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Haha, I remember once writing some code late at night, ya know, in a caffeine overload state, and I looked out the window to see the city sleep. Felt just like “Boyhood,” ephemeral, unpredictable, and raw. Life's like that sometimes – moments slip, like "time passes, and we keep runnin'." Reminds me of a line from the movie, "What a long, strange trip it's been." Man, it hits ya right in the gut when you're deep in thought.

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