You're afraid. Scared to death that if you let them into your life they'll steal a bit of you, and take and take until there's nothing left and you're just an empty shell of a human being.
Fragments, nonsense, random words and letters. A steady stream of consciousness, uninhibited by thoughts and reality. A verbal sketchbook of sorts. Notes, poems, truths, lies, and things that might sound good in a book if I ever do get around to writing one...
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