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What I would like is to be able to exchange texts that make me need to hide my smile; I’d like to give the same in exchange.
What I’d like is to push and feel actual engagement, real resistance, so I can actually map the lay of your terrain.
I’d like to lay your map on a large table—might have to use the bed—and spend time seeing everything. Looking for and finding those spots no one’s ever seen, let alone visited. Maybe I’ll find a long-empty cave, hidden by a now-huge torrential waterfall, and gently map every foot, inch, finding its secrets.
In a reverse of Plato’s cave, learning what’s real—not by stepping out into the light, but by diving, drilling ever deeper into that humid darkness, again and again, until I achieve enlightenment about what makes you click. Maybe we’ll even achieve a transcendence in an explosion of light and magic that literally stops time, even for a moment.
I’d want some give when I push so I can feel like I’m making progress. I don’t want a marshmallow starfishing it with borders so nebulous that everything feels soft and nonexistent—although I may want you awfully pliable in all sorts of ways. I might want to rewrite that map, expanding its borders in surprising ways.
I think of the quote, “The truth will set you free, but not until it is finished with you.” I think of the guy who said that, who eventually killed himself, and I still don’t know what to make of it.
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