Fuck, I feel broken. It has been a while since anything has made me happy, or even since I have felt anything more than lid pleasure. I know why that is - I'm beginning to suspect that I have a serious issue with a pinched nerve in my back. It is a common ailment, but mine has grown to become both acute and chronic. I had a cortisone shot, but it seems to be wearing off. The numbness and the weakness and the tingling are returning from the darkness like a coven. I've stopped riding my bike, to find out if that is a contributing factor, to hopefully find out. Though there is no good knowledge that can come back from that line of self-inquiry. If the biking is the cause, then I may need to give it up. If it isn't, then I may need to start some sort of treatment, and then I still might need to give up cycling or reduce the frequency or severity in which I ride. No, that is, as of yet, an irrational fear. But my pleasures are in the obsessive, not the recreational. That part I am certain of. If I can not achieve excess in a thing that interests me then I seem to hold that thing in a separate category from those in which I can. It becomes a lesser endeavor. That is part of why I struggle elsewhere, it seems. I am not in love with my own life as much as I once was. I am merely enjoying the sense of calm. I am told.
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