Sometimes I can get a glimpse of the real reason why writing is coming so hard for me, not to mention exercising: I'm not getting enough sleep. For the most part, though, I just trudge along with the conviction that my diminished capacities are a permanent condition. The scary thing would be that I don't always mourn the loss of my existential spark. Except that I can't really get worked up enough to be scared, which is even scarier.

Tags: analysis, everyday
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