there is only one love
Something waits for me outside my frame of reference; something that knows I exist and keeps tabs on my whereabouts. It is neither angry nor benevolent; it is a mathematical function I will never hope to understand. It cradles my fortune in its weathered hand and every so often, a drop or two slips through its fingers, and peering down on me from above, it thinks, "What a peculiar existence".
i also like summer thunderstorms.
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