I didn't realize it until now but a certain crucial bit of me died many months ago, something on the scale of a liver or other organ which processes poisons and makes the toxic potable, although it had not been without some long-term, underlying tax on other aspects of my well-being. The only reason I let it die is because I thought I didn't want it, I thought it was only a hypochondrial fever that didn't require a cure, but as it turns out I thrived on and was directed by it, it made it hard to breathe but at least I had goals then. So now I'm going to work to get it back

After chewing thoroughly, and looking up for a moment, cheese on his chin, Aristotle said, "the good life is a boring one"