what are we truly hoping to optimize? accuracy? familiarity? auditory rhythm? visual design? time to read? suspension of disbelief?

is there any prior art we can draw inspiration from? old plays? screenplay format? the arm/thumb asm of npc dialogue in capcom’s gba classic mega man battle network 3?

you cannot sustainably “personal responsibility” your way out of systemic semantic satiation! this cannot be solved with a lint rule or a metric!! i hate to say it, but this is grounds for a

domain specific language

if you’re googling “words to say instead of said,” consider: your grammar and punctuation rules have failed you!! this paragraph structure was not built for extensive dialogue!!! synonyms aren’t variety, they are obfuscation!!!!

these are the questions they don’t want you to ask. think about it—how could the elements of ‘complex’ grief be contained by the set of natural numbers less than or equal to seven? is the unwritten eighth stage ‘compliance’? who *truly* benefits from this one-dimensional understanding of grief?

are the emotions in each cluster discrete entities, or can they always be split once more? is the cluster count countably infinite? at what point is an autism diagnosis considered? could a proof by induction satisfy the criteria of medical necessity as defined by wpath standards of care version 8?

how do the “7 stages of grief” differ from the “5 stages of grief”? did we do k-means clustering with k=5 and k=7? could we define a generalized “the [k] stages of grief”?

or are they different things entirely, like the beefy 5-layer burrito and the discontinued vegetarian 7-layer burrito?

“the 7 stages of grief are typically sequential—unless your node moves backwards, gets stuck, jumps around, rotates, or undergoes any other type of transformation”

what is this, the tcp/ip layer(s) 3 & 4 of grief?? what’re you gonna do when http3 swallows three and a half of your precious stages??

but as luck would have it? i sprung a memory leak. my brain filled up with little bits of garbage until i crashed—and that set me free.

i’m here now, picking up the fragments and starting again.

what a relief to know, i’m just some girl

what can you do when the enemy watches your every move? only science knows: i had to become a wallfacer. i taught myself to run java bytecode on my own brain. the jvm’s latest compatible platform: me. in the blink of an eye, it was all over—i spent the next decade as a shell of a person.