Your name is Filbert. I'd rather use you as Fill. Fill, gods may have put you here for a victimless chatter, but I'll bring you up with the nonsense charge to meet false expectations. I know we don't see heart-to-heart, that parting shouldn't stop us from connecting the pesky dots of our pupils. Let's learn to be adult about this uncontrolled glowing. Your flighted fancies can't leave the tarmac without making one feel bold, another frightened, and everyone is a skosh confused in the end. I hope it doesn't bound too negative. I meant well.
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