A Plea For Help

Dear Brain,

Why?  Why are you doing this to us?  What are you even doing to us?  We haven’t felt this way in years.  Decades.

Don’t you remember the days when sitting is all that you had us do?  Whether at a desk or in the cockpit?  Weren’t those pleasant?  Sure, you didn’t seem to be that stimulated, but at least we had it easy.  Not everyone gets their way all the time you know.

Look at us now.  Feel us now.  Can’t you tell that we’re exhausted?  So much running.  And for what?  Oh, and I spoke to Fingers the other day, they told me not to say anything, but they’re starting to feel it too.  What about your piano?  Are you really going to let Fingers become too tired to tickle the ol’ ivories?

We just don’t understand it.  What are you running from?  Responsibility?  Failure?  It doesn’t make sense.  We used to live in harmony, and now look at us.  Muscle mass is shrinking, and we’re sore all the time.

We aren’t saying we can’t keep up, we just believe you are underachieving at the moment.  Remember what Bruce said in TDK?  “I believe in Harvey Dent.”  Well, we believe in you!  We’re with you.  No matter how far this road goes, we won’t let you fall.  Just please consider us in the softer moments.  Please.  Okay, that’s all.  Try to get us some rest.

With Support,

Legs

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