I guess I do have a teeny sense of the sacred scattered randomly across my interests like shrapnel from an exploded soul or something.
That’s a good phrase. I should write an emo poem titled ‘shrapnel from an exploded soul.’
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It is pretty random. Very few things that are sacred by broad social consensus are sacred to me, but random little obscure things being desecrated can upset me. And the set of things changes over time. I don’t realize I’ve stopped or started caring until desecrations happen.
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