It’s hard to understand that reality is.

It’s hard to understand that reality is.

I can tell you’re mentally ill by your handwriting.

I can tell you’re mentally ill by your formatting.

I can tell you’re mentally ill by your processing.

I can tell you’re mentally ill by your chess playing.

I can tell you’re mentally ill by your set shifting.

I can tell you’re mentally ill by your love making.

I can tell you’re mentally ill by your mouth moving.

I can tell you’re mentally ill by your collecting.

I can tell you’re mentally ill by your sad crying.

I can tell you’re mentally ill by your obsessing.

I can tell you’re mentally ill by your right-clicking.

I can tell you’re mentally ill by your head turning.

I can tell you’re mentally ill by your joke telling.

I can tell you’re mentally ill by your deep plunging.

I can tell you’re mentally ill by your nose flaring.

I can tell you’re mentally ill by your people watching.

I can tell you’re mentally ill by your declining.

I can tell you’re mentally ill by your thread spooling.

I can tell you’re mentally ill by your verb using.

I can’t tell you’re mentally ill by your work, though.

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