thom yorke said something about walking into a bookstore, or a library, or something. and there are all these books about you.
and it’s like you are already dead.
i was reading about mirror neurons in my psychology textbook and how the same regions of my brain are firing at the exact same time as so many other people’s - just because they’re picking up some sushi and eating it or something or maybe someone is listening to the same song as i am, writing in their journal (as i was when reading this) when they should be doing schoolwork.
is it supposed to be comforting ?
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