#wswid

i self undiagnosed myself a few months ago for giggles but i'm breaking the bit to concede a little about this whole closing eyes thing in getting away from already pretty much being away from it all, the way it recurs in the closing paragraph, the general allusion-theme with the childhood anxieties and overwhelm (being-poked-by-a-mad-chicken-trauma based vigilance overlapping into the greater sensory nightmare of the reportedly over-stimulating animal buildings) of the encroaching chicken room funhouse emotional penultimate whatever, it is all a really genius approximation of what shit feels like out here. it's more of an individually personal expression than the more apparently mushy philosophical-journalistic meaning attribution of the more prominent ones, the part that people really tend to enjoy about these articles, in a way that feels uniquely representative to a "specific" reading. this one sticks to me. the descriptions of being in these spaces and the sort of painstaking attention paid to detailing every tiny sensorial pricking as if i didn't already have immense second-hand phenomenal anxiety based on the names of the environments alone > " I've never before realized that "cacophony" was onomatopoeic: the noise of the Poultry Bldg. is cacophonous and scrotum-tightening and totally horrible. I think it's what insanity must sound like. " (AND an entendre too wowa)