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My boss scolded me recently.
My mom screams at me for some random reason
N tries to explain to me why some of my actions from a week ago hurt her.
P and B are sad and dealing with their own shit.


A month ago I'd panic, get stressed out, cry and scream myself. And get overly emotional in a desperate try to help everyone around me.
And it's not that I decided to be over it.
And it's not like I want to feel this way.

I just... do. Or don't. It's like a switch, except I can't really turn it on or off at my own volition. Something does it for me and this is just how it is.

I don't feel it anymore. Not just it. I don't really feel anything. And it's not like I'm numb, or depressed, or resigned. I'm actually pretty motivated and ready to finally fight my own battles this year.

I'm really excited about stuff. I spend hours designing and calculating and oh my god, believe me how good this feels. It always felt good. It always felt the best. I just could never truly concentrate on it when I felt... too much.

This is how it is. I can't just feel a little. It's either this or that. It's a binary choice. I can either feel so much I can't really deal with it or I can just... stop.

I haven't experienced that level of clarity of thoughts in a while. Things are so easy again. Things are so obvious again. The pieces fit perfectly into the puzzle. My brain is actually pretty amazing. Except that apparently it cannot be amazing enough to let me think AND experience normal human emotions at the same time. 

A waste of processing power, I guess? I don't know.

 I just know that I felt so much, so much I thought I'd die from the pain and pressure it generated. And then I decided that this year is going to be about something else, something I should have done years ago.

 Something I'm finally going to do as myself. Not her. Or rather: myself and her. Cause wow, hey, you know what? We are the same person. And we are both real and fine and she's not an impostor or a cliche or something else the other myself decided to deem her as to be able to usher her into a tiny corner of our common consciousness and let her rot there for years just because our father told us that we can't REALLY be who we are because we won't ever be good enough. Ha. You know what? We are pretty damn good. Together. And even if we are a little bit a cliche, so what? It's something to own, not something to be ashamed of. 

Thank you for never giving up and finding your way through every single wall I've built around you. Out of every single hole I've pushed you into. For making it past every obstacle I've thrown at you in my desperate attempt to convince myself that I can live without you as a part of me. I'm pretty great at guarding myself. You've broken into everything I used to keep you out. I never stood a real chance. Which, I guess, is ironic as fuck. But also... oh my god. 

This is going to be the beginning of a beautiful adventure, Alice. I'm glad we're on it together.

Even if you're stealing my feelings. We'll work on that later.

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