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disorder: lack of order, my mind is disordered — or I like to think it has its own unique order. I tend to have trouble remember– names, faces, places, times — sometimes. My girlfriend jokes that she can be my memory for me — which is nice, but still not quite the same.

My life feels disordered–fragmented– an amalgam of tangents spliced together– pointing in all directions. It seems to be the way my brain works — at times you could say thrives… My room is often a reflection of this state (the disorder, not hte thriving) and I can see it acting as both a symptom of, and the contributor to my continued disorder, both resulting from and furthering this chaos

Distractions, distractable, distracted — in some settings clearly an unproductive behavior, but in others quite the opposite. But does this (???) flow (???) happen in an unenthused state? Or does it allow for an almost self-selection —- If something isn’t interesting or engaging enough, the brain says “nope, sorry — not gonna happen” and goes somewhere else. But I suppose the process is not quite so discerning — it distracts even from the quality times — and we want it not to

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A rotting twine’s torsion, that one impossible organ deep within my chest where the feelings lie. lay. lye. lae. lae man lay-man serviceman. its spiny tendrils slowly killing cells, one at a time — mechanically tightening with each breath. In come the happy pills — Boom. everything goes