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  • usually i feel like we are immeasurably blessed whenever it hits me that we are, at least most of us, unable to read eachothers minds.
    it is such a glorious thing; panic strikes me sometimes when i forget this simple reality and believe for flash instances that my embarrassing, hurtful, obsessive, twisted or just plainly homicidal thoughts are being broadcast by massive blimps hovering by behind my head. or that whoever i'm thinking about is watching as a roll of constantly growing white paper, with all my secrets written on it, is pouring out of my ears and pockets and the sleeves of my sweater like a receipt machine. sometimes i can hear the faint whir.

    but there are moments when i wish more than anything that the curtains hanging behind peoples' eyes would lift and i could see past the stage, past the complicated scenes that play over the simple, hidden thoughts. sometimes i wish people could see into mine too, see through all the words and movements and behaviors that pathetically struggle to shroud the feelings that i dont know how to express.
    what a relief it would be, to lay still with the thoughts, desires, and secrets all flowing out of me like water, not having to speak any of it.
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