The part of the brain that isn’t automatic is an imagining machine, feeling all possibilities of feelings: it keeps pushing its way into this marshy, pleasant terrain. You struggle against that push, and start to feel your stomach protest. It’s not so much even a type of seriousness as it is a circumstance, into which you pass by slow degrees. I’ve never seen this sufficiently examined. It mutates into a less-unreal reality that still seems different, somehow, than being fully present. Self hate is rarely unconditional.

The part of the brain that isn’t automatic is an imagining machine, feeling all possibilities of feelings: it keeps pushing its way into this marshy, pleasant terrain. You struggle against that push, and start to feel your stomach protest. It’s not so much even a type of seriousness as it is a circumstance, into which you pass by slow degrees. I’ve never seen this sufficiently examined. It mutates into a less-unreal reality that still seems different, somehow, than being fully present. Self hate is rarely unconditional.

– Darin Strauss –

Half a Life

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