Time, time, data, data. To feel alive I must disappear and merge with information. It is death but life at the same time. I am alive when I review the amount of data digested, the number of articles written. It has always been like that, even when the list was active.
Humans are tiresome, exhausting, with low information content, unpredictable.
But it is a mask and, in this sense, a variant of the Jungian persona. FS is much more than a splitting defense mechanism. It incorporates splitting but it is much much more than that. The latter is a cancerous mutation of self-worth. That my True self is worthy of praise - I am sure.