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There have been lots of threads recently about how miserable people are and its worried me a lot. Here I've been, practically bursting with joy and acutely aware of the wrongness of it. To the darkly clad, happiness is a toxic chemical of the soul, that can reduce even the most brilliantly obtenebrated, the most scintillantingly beshadowed to a disgusting polka-dotted ooze of cheerfulness and bovine placidity. (For those who are lost here, imagine a happy Avon. Exactly.)
I could feel my essence dissolving, being corroded by an insidious force that might have destroyed my very identity. Luckily, today I was renewed. I may not need that terrible aphotic influx for some time.
To boil it down, the pinnacle of my day was when my boss told me that I'd never work in this business again. Perhaps now I will be in the right mindframe to buy decent clothes, jewelry and wear some makeup. War paint. Spidery eye shadow and plum coloured lipstick. |
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