What I Hate

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I hate:

Being filled with physical need, not knowing where and when the next embrace is coming from. I might just explode with desire. Messy.

Having discovered the pleasure of telling the people I love that I love them, and then being unable to tell the newer members of that group the same out of fear or misunderstanding. I get so much joy out of simply delivering that news to someone. As if it was not written all over me in capital, glowing letters.


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