#0134. Always behind. Something never quite adapted. I am so foreign to them all. I mutter. Demand more of yourself. Get behind the wheel. Always sick. Lost little puppy. My eyes are wet with distaste. They do not trust me. I am the acolyte and the priest of a new order. I am the god of a new order. They do not want me in their circle. Demand more of yourselves. Always behind. Barely alive. They don't even notice my tusks.
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