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Today the dude from Paris, also known as Y, called. It was very nice to talk to him, and he always makes me feel good.

What does the voice of my lover sound like? I listened, and I remembered how it is when I noticed it’s actually slightly high pitched. Most of the time I don’t notice much about him at all, and it almost surprises me when I do realize these little things that just are.

Then I started thinking about how I know my mother and father’s voices, and of course their particular accents, but I don’t really notice them. But maybe I should.

Maybe I should appreciate all these beautiful gifts that life has just given me, that I didn’t plan for or even really go out of my way to deserve.

Maybe that’s the antidote to longing for a lalaland that exists in my mind that I’lll never get to despite all my vain efforts. That sometimes, reality actually trumps fantasy and life is pretty sweet.

It’s nice to admit when you actually like your life, the real one as it is. And be surprise to notice it, and how is not only differs, but surpasses, your wildest dreams.

 

 

 

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