a part. Again. I have this feeling sometimes. Divorced from the world, being two different people, somehow. Acting cheerful and happy and hyper and ignoring the screaming part of me that wants to do the opposite - curl up in a dark place and make myself small and hide and cry like a child. Or being miserable and weepy when half of me is saying 'go out and play', though that is less common. Acting happy is a way of staving off real misery for a bit, of packing things away that can't be dealt with until they're at greater distance and better able to be understood. Sometimes it falls apart, usually when I'm tired. If I was being particularly successful at being happy, sometimes I haven't realised the pain is there and it all crashes down at once.
None of that is happening, nobody worry. I have epic mood swings, as anyone who has spent ANY time around me knows, and it's not like the world has been exactly stable for the last few months. It was just a thought that occurred to me, really, about things that sometimes happen.
A Visit to the Mauviel Copper Cookware Factory
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