I didn’t think it possible, yet I grow even more bitter with each passing day. But unlike the ephemeral gustatory sensation, this unwelcome experience knows no bounds. There is no maximum ceiling , or an emergency kill switch to stem the sensory overload - just more unyielding sentimental bitterness of the highest intensity. In a blink of an eye, I've catapulted from an overgrown carefree adolescent to an irritable 36-year-old curmudgeon.
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