You should know that I suck at keeping my own secrets. The fact that my mouth is shut still means you count more than I can explain. You're younger, which. I dunno. It's weird to think about.
These stories should be interesting. Because I can't embellish. It's a simple narrative, and even though I process everything with beautiful words, I can't remember all of them. There are plenty of metaphors and allusions and other literary devices I could use for anything. There is only a half second missing of colorful description. It's completely and utterly, disconcertingly blank. Which doesn't bother me nearly as much as it should. Four. Five. Six. Seven.I look forward to the eventually where I can stay in that sweet little town for while.
I need more potassium. I need to be a competent performer. I need more hugs in my life.
I am worried sick about you. You mean so damn much to me and you don't even realize it. You are the only person older that me that has lived up to my expectations and I can't thank you enough for that.
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