An emotionally
disassociated mind.
I like that. I think I have one.
And I’ve been meaning to make a post all day on what I find vaguely
unsatisfactory about the fact that some people spend their lives doing Very
Important Things like writing the works of Shakespeare or conquering the known
world, while others make do with pruning the rose bushes and discussing the
weather. But then I found myself sitting by a warm fireside reading the outpourings
of an emotionally disassociated mind, and that makes you a bit sleepy. So I can’t
be bothered now.
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