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No. 13058
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Mostly, I don't even consider it anymore. I've so radically detached my sense of love from sex (and meaningfulness from physicality) that, at this point, I find it quite strange to even hear that the body plays any role on it, other than as a proxy/mirror for virtuality that could very well be replaced entirely with prosthetics someday.
However, I do still experience a nostalgic strive for physical contact (as some need to "feel" beautiful things) that I've satisfied with diverse objects like collectibles. I've even become fond of dolls and I currently have a project to build one as an admissible surrogate for companion, somewhat like that owl (posted by a brohno sometime) whose deceased partner was successfully replaced with a stuffed toy; but I very well understand that at the most it'd be just that, a reminder, and not mai waifu and beloved who lies somewhere else entirely... namely: in me, as a splitting of my own self, as another attempt for my mind to form a figure of itself.
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