What sits beneath those masks? In the minds and hearts of the actors of the everyday? What fears and insecurities lurk beneath the surface? What passions and joys? What anger? What fetishes make them tick?
Suicidal Empathy

It bothers me and sets shivering realizations to my mind, to think that we’re all acting in plays filled with lines that don’t reflect what we need to say.

Wonderful piece, really. Meeting people like myself is always reassuring, even though I can’t stop thinking everyone I’ve met can relate to this.

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