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Days

Some days are harder than others, they can arrive on their own, or sometimes in clumps. Sometimes the cause is obvious, but other times it’s something that hasn’t changed for a long time, or something vauge that won’t quite come into focus. At the edges durring the fight not to go in, or to get out, they can be immensely productive. But in the middle they can be paralysis, an inability to function, a raw reduction to basic need fufilment.

The overwhelming pointlessness, senselessness of reality descends in waves, rolling viscous cold waves. Disconnected, profound loneliness, the destruction of motivation. Sometimes it’s a sudden flash of emptyness, cool emotional experience, knowledge that oblivion would be easier. A spiral of memory, and anticipation. Projecting negative thoughts onto memories and relationships, and deriving imagined futures, futures with all the negative outcomes wrapped into one narative. No regrets? Othertimes it’s a protracted descent, as each spiral is replaced by another seemingly more profound and disturbing; a mind exploring its depths rending into itself pulling and probing at any weak spot.

On the other slope the pointlessness starts to make sense, it’s the joy, the continual creation, of every moment. It’s not having any ultimate goal or absolute basis for reality. It’s freedom to live now, to experience reality as it is, not as it was, or might be. It’s an expansive empathic feeling of unity, of the singularity of humanity. The fears, struggle and beauty of other people, the shared mind of friends. An apreciation of the fearsome, incredible immensity of existence and the fasinating inseperable detail of every smallest component. Not essential, simply unique, connected and singular.

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