Sympathy for Teddy
Teddy (fair warning: there's some naughty language in this story) is the most moving thing I've seen in a while.
I want to write something here about the universality of loss, the emptiness, the crushed-up remains of the structures of personality, the endless reservoir of energy that can only be devoted to worrying or fidgeting aimlessly. Limited spare time and a seemingly unlimited amount of work-related garbage are preventing me from doing so in a way I find satisfactory, but I hope you enjoy the link anyway.
Is this a case of someone mining universal truths from personal disaster, or me projecting my own experiences onto someone else's work?