The superego, mature, responsible part of my brain is doing its best to go about its business, get work done, fulfill its responsibilities, think lofty meaningful thoughts.
The id, primitive, most basic part of my brain has its face pressed to the windows of its enclosure, steaming up the glass with its breath, waiting for someone to pick it up and hold it. It wants love, and security.
Poor baby. I'm doing my best to build it a safe habitat. I wish I could fulfill all its needs by myself.
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