I know the feeling, I told T once that I wished I had a USB port for my brain. It would make therapy so much easier...  it'll be okay, it will.
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'...
At poor peace I sing
To you strangers (though song
Is a burning and crested act,
The fire of birds in
The world's turning wood,
For my sawn, splay sounds,)
...'
Dylan Thomas, Author's Prologue
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