TFW you've nearly finished an essay based on ideas you had two years ago, and then discover in your drafts folder a nearly-finished version written two years ago that you had completely forgotten existed because you were interrupted by a parental crisis just before finishing.
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Oh, you are dying? Sorry, can’t help, I’m dead.
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Now I can also understand ghosts as people who still really want to help even though they’re dead.
End of conversation
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