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Livejournal is working again.

Which is more than can be said about my brain.



I can't even make up for the lack of content with pictures, because this last week it's been so cold (-15 or - more? less? - to -5 at the very best, plus wind-chill) that one's fingers start to freeze the moment one pulls off the gloves.


It's strange - sometimes writing is almost a necessity, and at other times I feel so... disinterested, even in myself, so uninteresting, that it just doesn't seem worth the bother. Fragments of thoughts at best, too unformed, immediately discarded. Very, very blank.


Even stranger, I'm not even unhappy with this state of mind. Should I be scared?

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solitary_summer
solitary summer

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