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a passionate repentance

The internet is not made for conversing. There are no vocal or…

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may God stand
The internet is not made for conversing.

There are no vocal or visual clues. There are only words, and sometimes damn flat words.

Occaisionally there needs to be someone available to whisper to you "Hello, you're being an ass. Just thought you ought to know." Well, there might be, we call them trolls. However there *also* needs to be someone to tell you to get off your arse and do something else.

Or to stop making such a production of things.

Or that what you really need is a hug.

That voice would be very welcomed if it also occaisionally made brownies.
Or gave backrubs.
  • You know, I make brownies with startling regularity, and I intend to go to school in the spring for professional backrubbing.

    Aside from that, I rather prefer conversing online, BECAUSE there are only words. They're my particular talent, words; they're my world. They're my everything. I live in my head (rather more than I ought) and that realm is filled with them. I bend them and twist them and put them into and out of order and I make things with them. I -make- things with them.

    I don't just talk.

    I can't do that in spoken conversation. I haven't the knack.

    But I can write them.
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