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. Why do I see the light? Is it photons or a dream? Why is the world a glitch in a biological stream? I’m breathing... but is it a choice or a reflex arc? A spark in the synapses, lighting up the dark. Wait—"consume and don't create"—did I think that or hear it? A YouTube video from Tuesday? Or is it my spirit? Does an original thought even exist in this head? Or am I just a mirror of everything I’ve read? And here comes the exam... the "mere paper" fear. Am I curious or just escaping the atmosphere? How dumb to believe in the weight of a grade, But the pressure is a ghost that will never be stayed. It’s a scientific mind in a cage of self-doubt Calculating the exit but never getting out. I associate pleasure with the dopamine screen But the real comfort's hidden in the "might have been." I’m a girl in the corner, crying at the math, Searching for a variable to change my path. I love the Chemistry, the Physics, the Flow But I fear the "memory"—the things I don't know. I completed a book... but was it enough? Or am I just playing with intellectual stuff? My parents’ silent hope is a needle in my chest, While I smile at the table at this self-made mess. Junk food and algorithms, a cycle of shame, While the books on my shelf whisper my name. I pick up the volume, I hug it so tight It used to be a home, now it’s a source of the fright. The paper feels cold. The ink feels like lead. I’m mourning the version of me that is dead. Can I go back? To the work... to the joy? Or am I just a machine that I chose to destroy? The version of me once lived this termoil -WeDebateOfficial