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A while back an injured bird was hanging out outside my window for a few weeks.

After about a week, when it could fly again (I saw it take a few short flights, up to a tree, back down), it didn’t leave. It just stayed there in that general area, never gone for more than an hour.

It was as of it forgot what life was like before it was broken.

I thought to myself how curiously similar this is to us humans, out at least some of us humans. Once we are broken, it feels like we are always broken.

I did say a few weeks didn’t I? The bird eventually died. Maybe the injuries were worse than I thought, and I just saw metaphors where there were none.

Either way I related with that bird and was sad when it died. Not that it died, that’s natural. But that it forgot how to live, and I wonder far too often if I haven’t forgotten as well.

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