Suppose there was a journal of all the thoughts you formed in your mind expressed through grammatical language/inner monologue. This journal is everything you might have said but didn't say, either through choice or missed opportunity. What's in your journal?
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I just visualized a montage of brief scenes progressing through the degeneration of the substance use habits of an opioid addict, embedded within the simultaneously progressing patterns of the broader society, in part their statistical reflection and part their econometric cause.
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It would have made a fairly decent documentary tbqh
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Eventually recovering to maintenance, itself perhaps a parallel to some eventual recovery of the relevant local socioeconomic climate away from war-by-militarized-black-bloc-cops and toward sensible maintenance of community-level health baselines and individual rights?
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But we all know this is too optimistic, for now. The junkie again ambivalently indulges, another no-knock-raid destroys another family senselessly with no economic or societal gains to speak of, the cycle of condemned opposed compulsions continues. Eventual prognosis unclear.
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No one said a word. I am merely transcribing from imagery and its emotional context.
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>tfw overactive default-mode network
End of conversation
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