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angular gyrus jab,
Like the elaborate maze of mirrors through which we’ve been looking at each other
I’m crying, I’m crying in front of him, and I hate him.
I’m not mad at him—I hate him.
I hate him, hate him, hate him, with a passion
I hate him. And I don’t want to feel so much.
I fantasize all the way home,
My career is the ultimate unrequited love story,
But what would be left of me without neuroscience?
That brain differences predict variations in personality?
Maybe I should feel all my feelings now, so I can be solution-oriented later.
She’s still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“There is no other neuroscientist I’d want to do this project with. Not a single one.”
“Yeah.”
but Levi pulls on the back of my flannel and lifts one eyebrow—
Oh shit we have competition similar.
public before coffee.

