Remember that online thing you started on a whim, telling the world hey! @world! I exist. That your fragile little bubble had a small entryway for others to get in on, sit down, maybe eavesdrop?  I wanna know if you ate guacomole and beer for dinner, what you saw on the train that made you cry, if your boyfriend or girlfriend broke your heart, if you collect lotto tickets and dye your hair and skate while the sun is going down. I wanna see a picture of your new shoes/tshirt/puppy/apt/haircut. The beauty is in the inane, the babble, the internet.  Why be relevant? (I say this with some humor). Why not be marginal and true and real. I guess I want to hear real stories, not a sales pitch. I want to know all about you. And if noone listens, so what.

SO WHAT.

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