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“Love is like oxygen!”
Diminished oxygen is hateful to struggle with.
Simple thinking or acting requires more effort, exertion. When my brain isn’t getting all the air it needs it feels as if there is an extra layer or dimension that I have to push through. It is the same old universe but a less able Pansexual Sodomite.
Bad for my vanity. Even worse when it comes to coping with everyday life.
To recover my old comfort with living makes me more desperate to see my aerobic health return than probably all other reasons combined. Feeling crippled feels like a needlessly slow poison.