You know what I’m like. I want to be different.

I am trying to establish a connection to the starry outside, that huge black thing that goes on forever. 

What’s needed is a line of communication. Earth is too small for me and the gravity gets me down. My brain is so huge and exquisitely structured that only an alien intelligence from a highly advanced civilization could really understand me and make me laugh. A lady with silver skin that is always completely cold. Imagine me, it’s very poignant, so lonely on this world, sending beams of thought and intention into outer space, and receiving nothing in reply. The stars watch but don’t whisper. Not to me.

Doom steers me. I open my heart to
Them. It’s not just a performance. I wanted to get away. Bane. To run, just laughing, and the body full of joy. But it’s strange sometimes and I feel I’ve lost something, the warmth of myself, close at hand, right there, an intimate thing, like holding hands. That’s what despair is like. The distances
are very long.

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