sometimes i feel like a clock maker. i feel like i spend so much time taking myself apart, inspecting the gears, the ideas, the thoughts, the mechanism of me, working to correct any damage i find, then putting myself back together again. it feels like a daily process. always considering, always rethinking, always reviewing.
for so long, it seemed a healing mechanism. i felt like i was peeling back layers, uncovering the foundations, finding dry rot and neglect and working to repair it. i felt like i was learning, growing, despite whatever pain the search provided.
i do not feel i'm growing anymore, though. i don't feel like the constant analyzing isn't providing any insight. everything just seems so pointless right now.
and i don't know what to make of that.
ghost
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