Minions! I come to you in my loosest grasp of myself yet. As humans, our wanting feels most pressing when the possibility of it satisfied is strongest; we are the most hungry at the sight of food, and we struggle to convey with most, almost hopeless, sincerity when we recognize fitting docks for our bridges. As humans, we are driven the most into corners by losing those close possibilities from our almost grasping hands; at the culmination of my struggling to connect with all the matter of my hand stretched full, an inch of space persists, one that can only be closed by free falling out of all my familiar, out of denials, comfort zones, and "white" lies.... my chains ring out in protest to moving their rust. Heights have always unsettled me, not for fear of falling, rather due to the tightening of the chains of my not being able to simply fly off! People who understand have always unsettled me, not for all the space covered, rather due to the tightening of the chains that can only be broken with my eyes closed and senses sealed, due to the one inch that still needs covering! Minions, I don't really know....
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