Here are a few notes for the book:
Pain in the foot like an inside out porcupine. Pain in the legs like searing maggots eating their way out from the bone.
S&M hobbyists might think, "Pain every day. And in such heaping helpings. Where do I sign up?" There is no safe word for Thalamic Pain. It isn't a toy. It isn't a game. It's pain. Pure. Simple.
Clarion West writer's workshop: Glazed over with pain.
Trying Provigil again made sense, but it's depersonalizing me. I feel like I'm watching a not particularly interesting movie. It bores me. It is my life.
I've tried plenty of seizure meds that depersonalized me. I'd rather take the pain than lose myself.
It's all in my head.
Somewhere deep in my brain, the ME organ, lies a flaw, a lesion- an alien insinuating word, almost onomatopoeic - so goes one theory. Some of the wiring doesn't connect. The thalamus, distributor of sensation, is broken and sensation is routed to pain. And so, instead of a fully functioning brain in a broken body I've got a broken brain in a healthy body. Not what I would have chosen. Gotta play the best I can with the hand I was dealt. I've become very good at enduring intense pain. Not bragging, that's just the way it is.
Brainrot has left me intelligent but not smart. I'm trying to learn how to be smart at a slower speed. Wise I'm still working on.
Trying to be smart slower. Have to keep track of steps, be methodical, double-check crucial steps. You can still be smart even when your cognitive abilities are pretty destroyed.
Everyone contains an ember of pure joy. Maybe lodged in the wrong place.