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Cartoons on Porcelain

That I might only be some collection of chemicals, some animated object that has been tricked into believing she has a free will and consciousness, I can handle. That he might be, I cannot. Because then all his love for me is nothing more than a chemical high that has little to do with me. Because then all my love, be it real or chemical illusion, is being put into a vacant spot. I want the impossible that all lovers in history have longed for: I want not to be alone in my consciousness. I want to know, know exactly, what he is thinking and feeling. Because if I know exactly what he is thinking and feeling, I can never lose him. And if I know exactly what he is thinking and feeling, then I’ll feel the love he feels for me and stop worrying if it’s only chemical.

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