(no subject)
Nothing makes you feel bad quite as throughly, as effectively as a night spent dumping all the serotonin in your brain out into your bloodstream. It seems worth it, especially when you're lonely, if only for the feeling of closeness, however artificial it might be. Maybe it even is worth it, perhaps the utility of losing all the shit I literally burned out of my system outweighs the existential doom and gloom I feel now, chemically modulated into my already prone brain. Maybe artificial closeness is better than nothing at all. Afterall...when I'm like that I get all my forgotten sense memories back, if only temporarily. I woke up this morning and could have sworn I felt someone breathing into my ear, and that was the last of it. Nothing can express how good it feels to remember things like that. Nothing can express quite how terrible it feels to lose them all again. There is this pathetic sort of ache; the ache a reference feels without its object, the ache of knowing that there are just a bunch of placeholders left in your head.
I let loose last night and all I really have to show for it is a chemical imbalance and a days worth of shoddy philosophy, pondering the problem of evil. I do Philosophy of Science...I'm not cut out for the ethics beat. Then again...I'm not cut out for much, but I keep doing it. Perhaps I should simply adopt this attitude more widely.
I let loose last night and all I really have to show for it is a chemical imbalance and a days worth of shoddy philosophy, pondering the problem of evil. I do Philosophy of Science...I'm not cut out for the ethics beat. Then again...I'm not cut out for much, but I keep doing it. Perhaps I should simply adopt this attitude more widely.