MEANS
TO AN
END
by Miles
going crazy, I'm teetering on
I'M NOT the edge between discovery
and utter despair. I can see walls, one-hundred
stories high, laughing as I scrape crumbs from the
cracks in their foundations. For years I've sub-
sisted on those crumbs, lapping up whatever juice
might trickle my way, and now I realize I have no
other choice. For years lenjoyed a romantic notion
of the cracks, a feeling of independence from and
superiority to others who sought footholds in
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