"I can still read," I tell myself, while failing to pick up a single book all year. "I know how to read still," I continue to insist, while I struggle to parse my own words in past reviews. "Everything is perfectly okay," I lie, because I really don't want to admit that I'm so burned out I've lost all ability to focus and find joy in something that has meant the world to me for most of my life.
— Jun 28, 2024 09:58AM
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