running around making things out of my words and body are the only things (i think) i'll ever be able to do consistently/well (excluding the possibilities of maiming accidents/episodes of depression that tend to steal my words. yeah. that'll never happen.) so here, i'll yell with you HEY PUBLISHERS PLEEEEEAAASSSEEE
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when there is nothing to be said.
but even with your words, it seems you've reached in and stolen mine
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synchronicty is so beautiful.
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so here, i'll yell with you
HEY PUBLISHERS PLEEEEEAAASSSEEE
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