The black dog (Churchill), the heaviness (Dangerfield). To be always clawing out or sinking in. The only real feeling involved is exhaustion, that and boredom, which is not really a feeling at all but rather the negative space around feeling, or the drapes that shut tight around a window and can't, for some reason, be opened. It becomes difficult: to live, to work, to love, to be loved. Thoughts slip away. The mind lacks incisiveness. In the trench with slight dementia, amnesia, synaesthesia, whatever. And all I ask is: what to do?
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