When I think about my most greedy and selfish aspects of who I am I cannot escape wanting to know things that I am not supposed to know. I want to know how my friends fuck, and fight. I want to know their dream and aspirations. I want them to present these things to me as something to be consumed over dinner, or in a room besides a roaring fire on a winter day. I want to refill glasses of wine as my friends share with me where the transition between frustration with their partner and ridiculous desire for them occurs. I want the deep personal details shared with me and for that sharing to be powerful and fulfilling for them.
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