I am going insane. There is no escape. There are no other possibilities. The room is dead, the house is dead, the screen is live. Nothing else must be done. More thoughts, more and more thoughts. Text and typing in streams, as "text" is foolishly equated with "thought". This is the point at which the exploration becomes daunting — for its due date becomes more real and tangible. How does one know when one has "finished" a hypertextual essay? Surely there will always be another avenue left to explore.

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