The locus of the self, its constituents, and their functions
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- Because a true thought is some configuration of some part of the world that is near to the self in a manner that is congruent to a part that is far, we call it the prodrome, which is where I am, because I'm actually slowly inviting insanity upon myself by letting this much of the things I secretly think onto the paper, or else setting myself up for a task of pruning that i so herculean that I am likely or liable to avoid it altogether, thereby getting myself into a position where all my unquestioned delusions are out there somewhere, and I have to double down on them or get eaten by the doubt that I am wrong that I have not bothered resolved because the doubt is also a fear. and therefore I am consigning myself to psychosis in the near future, holy shit, I should've just read some fucking fanfic and gone home, what the fuck is this even…
- what do we pull things out for? to look at them better. the gradually-warmer journey to the center of the self, slowly becoming darker and sweeter and less bearable as you proceed, is too delicate and volatile to introduce the reagent called attention to very often. pull it out to look at it. These slow, inefficient, worry stones are what keep you in the prodrome, give you tools instead of merely dreams, keep the temptation of hallucination at bay (because you have to admit reality's better when you can get it. it feels good to let the rhyming things in.)
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