The thrill of a blank page filling with watercolor bleeding into raw emotion, or a book’s twist that steals my breath.It’s vulnerability: cracked-open songs, honest laughter, the spark when someone sees me. Quiet, deep, alive. What makes your blood sing? 🔥. It’s the chill of disconnection, the sting of being unseen. I crave warmth, truth, gentle hands. What pushes you away? 🌑.
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