More like a fire than a tornado.

I miss my MacBook.
I can’t really write next to my daughter without it, unless my son forgets to take his laptop upstairs in the evening, but then he’d get told off.
A long time ago I read The World of Garp, and was stunned to see someone else had thought about the idea of cutting one’s own tongue out in furious protest for not being able to talk. Just reading about someone doing it and feeling the way I did made me slowly desist from seriously thinking about it.
This is why, by the way, the right book can keep a person sane.
Anyhow. I was worried my new employment situation, my new life situation, would make my mind suffer. But I see it’s different than I expected. I can now pour my natural caring instincts onto those I interact with at work, be they colleagues or patients, and I’m happy. I still have the same thoughts, the same stream of consciousness I used to think everyone had, but as it necessarily lasts very little, it goes nowhere, and just stifles and dies, rather than build up and destroy its way out, as it used to.
I conclude in the horror of SuperMario show and Zelda in cartoon. “Excuuuuuse me, Princess!”


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