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November 29, 2011
His mind was the faded grey of a piece of fabric washed too many times. Looking at him, at his blank eyes and mild, empty smile, I wondered if perhaps a little darkness in the brain is preferable to a brain scrubbed spotless.

"It only hurts a little," he said. "It really helped. I used to be so depressed, but now..."

He laughs, but it is a quiet, shallow laugh. He frowns, but the rest of his face remains untouched by the downward slope of his lips. It's true; he does not feel pain. He does not feel at all.