By: Leah
“Never mind,” you said after you poured your heart out to me. “I’m talking too much.”
No. Tell me.
Tell me about the things that make you who you are. Tell me about your childhood imaginary friend you could’ve sworn was real. Tell me about your favourite film and why you secretly love tacky songs. Tell me about the things that motivate you to keep going and the things that you despise. Tell me about your day on the days we don’t meet, and tell me what you like about when we do. Tell me about your favourite person you haven’t seen in years and what they mean to you. Tell me why you love the ocean and outer space and history and all the things that make you tick. Tell me about your future aspirations, who you want to become and who you thought you’d be now. Tell me how you’d raise your children, the names you’d give them and the traumas you’d choose not to share with them.
You think you talk too much. But I’m learning about someone I adore. So tell me more. Tell me more and then tell me some more.
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