Don’t tell me about black holes. You’re just like the rest of us. Your head is empty space and gelatinous white. The only thing you know is your phone number. You’re too cool for school. You don’t have atom-powered brain capacity. You can’t recite theories like alphabet. You’re not black rimmed glasses, socially awkward, pocket protector. Sorry to box you like this. Sorry to be defeatist. This is just the way it is.
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