‘Mesh’ed up.

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I am sitting in a coffee shop, my book and cookie lying deprived of my touch since a while. I’m here talking to you. You are nobody I know, yet the thought of you assures me I can speak to you and there will be no eyebrow raised, no question asked, no advice given. You will just listen and that’s just so comforting.

Call me messed up but don’t you think it’s a quality if you prefer your own company to anyone else’s?

Voices in my head.

I have a new dream developing.

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