The praise is genuinely arousing, but simultaneously hard to handle.
BHD
32

Hahaha! But, see, that’s exactly where the shared weirdness dwells. No one in my personal life on Earth really gives a shit that I write. After all these years a family member will read something I wrote and be shocked that know how to write. I’ve got no one I ever physically talk abut poetry with, much less what I’ve written. Even the women who inspire the words I write aren’t (with one past exception) interested in my words. They don’t know or appreciate me as a writer or poet.

Yet, I’ve never sat down with you, never said “hello” where you could hear, but I know that you are a beautiful person.

Alpha Centauri, it’s a hell of a place.

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