It will already be too late when the kid realizes: the good things were planted there, exploitations. The kid's mind will be mush by then
The poor kid searches desperately for language to describe why the good things are good, drowning out the nagging world with gibberish
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The poor kid never stood a chance. Nothing left to do but join the grind, and forget about the gibberish that still bounces around the mind
End of conversation
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