Major depression without the guilt

In the happiness contest that often passed for life, one person found a way to avoid the struggle.

As an atheist, I don’t think my soul’s in turmoil – or that I have one, or that my bad days mean anything except that my brain sometimes lets me down, as other people’s hearts and joints do them. As an atheist, I’m aware I don’t really hate myself – that the will to expire some nights is a malfunction of the circuitry, not evidence of self-knowledge – and rather than feeling inadequate, I’m amazed the software works as well as it does.


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I am a writer of words, a thinker of thoughts, a changer of genders, and a queerer of life. I am an antagonist of the ordinary; and while I do tolerate it, I also look at it with contempt.

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