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I never touch anything with half of my heart.
I don’t know how to be anything other than intense.
I don’t know how to experience without feeling too much and thinking too much.
I don’t know how to sit still and quiet my mind and just be.
I am always searching, always questioning, struggling to find the meaning in everything.
I am passionate and I am deep, and even if I am misunderstood, I am finally okay with that.
I need substance and depth.
I want our minds to be connected.
I sometimes choke on the words I left unsaid and drown in the thoughts I left unshared.
I am a tangled mess of silky string.
I live for the bite marks you leave on my thighs.
I long for the sore ribs from heavy breathing.
But then again, you wouldn’t want me any other way.