Dear B.

Transference sucks. I think about you so much, but it isn't really you, it's the illusion of the perfect human. You get me, you listen, you think I'm funny, you worry about me...all my needs wrapped up in you. There are days that I wish you weren't ethical because I want to touch your face, I want to nuzzle myself into the crook of your neck. I want you to wrap me up in your world, to touch me, to whisper my name and tell me how important I am in your life, that my existence matters to you in the most intimate way.

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