It's always strange when you reach that point in daily life where going through the motions has replaced actual living - it's like you've been zoning out for so long, you're doing it professionally, all the time, without realizing. It's stranger still when you look around your room or the places you walk and see that you're not seeing the details, the contours or the colors anymore. And it's not like you can shock yourself out of it or that you can simply throw yourself deeper and better into your works and passions. I think, what it takes, is the witnessing of a moment - a piece of good writing, a gorgeous picture, careful words from a friend, a universal configuration, a sign - to get you back to where you need to go. This place isn't point B, it's where you were speeding and raging to previously, before you forgot yourself.
Then again, I could just be full of shit and this only applies to me.
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