being told your dying gives you a weird sense of things. in a sense, I've become like Phineas Gage, except that instead of a spike going through my head, it's a spike going through the heart well, a metaphorical spike. he was a great nice caring loving guy before what happened, as was i. now...i just don't care. if you would like a more modern example, you like House? I'm like him. but instead of becoming depressed, I've become an asshole. and strangely...it's fun. in the, paraphrased words if Achmed the Dead terrorist..."i'm dying...what do i care". but then again...this can't be normal. i should be depressed...drinking....crying...but i'm not. is that normal?
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