Some shit about splooging your identity on the world or something like that

Sometimes a thing's so inside you -
when it's taken away, it's like
a big fucking hole in your world
- like a chunk ripped out.
(Once I parked in K-town,
and somebody jacked my
side view mirrors. For two days,
it was like they'd reached in and ripped out chunks of my eyeballs.)
First you keep reaching
for that piece of your soul
and it's not there and it's like
somebody put a brick wall in your brain.
It makes me understand stroke victims
and unwilling amputees.
It doesn't stop freaking you out
that your left hand arm isn't there anymore
or whatever.

And then you get used it it and you develop
this new life,
and it starts to get very satisfying
as your work your way around your obstruction
and develop new habits and routines
and ways of conducting your ass around town
and it starts to get really interesting and finally
you don't feel like there's shit missing anymore,
you like your new self, and your new life,
your new soul-balance,
and then when somebody offers that piece back,
which you've still been telling yourself that you want back,
suddenly, you're a little nauseous, and you're like,
"Holy shit, I don't think I want it back anymore."

Anyway, what I'm saying is that
they finally called and said my
laptop's done and I can
have it back anytime now.