Seems like whenever we talk (face to face STOP! *breaks it down to Daft Punk* ok. Ummm. Or on the phone), WE TALK! We get calm and comfortable and we seem to want to talk about everything. Like we are being pulled together [to.get.her] by some force. We’ve always been perfect in moments. Longevity is the problem. Seems the universe won’t allow us to be great. Just in tiny spaces that are infinite. I cannot accept this. I will not. It’s not enough. Never was…
