In fact, I want as little space as possible,
A hundred clowns crammed into a Volkswagen.
That's the kind of non-space I'm talking about.

That is the springboard. The quote that I grabbed pen and post-it so to remember perfectly. It sounds crazy, I know, but somehow it seems to pinpoint things nicely.

I think it's effort. And effort is a skill that I think requires an acquired taste.

I want to know everything, and the reciprocal of that. Not just how everyone else knows you. Talk about things I do not like to talk about, Anything and Everything. I would give my right breast to know exactly what was going with you.

I find you brilliant to the point that my mouth hangs open and I drool in awe.
That's free from embellishment too.

Maybe you don't have a regular need for contact, a figurative daily quota to be filled.
And though I would be happy-as-hell to enforce one, it should not be a reason.

If it does not magically occur I get upset and frustrated. And then I binge eat. And then do not eat at all. And crave carbonated substances. I hate carbonated substances.
Added to stress, and some sort of state similar to limbo and I break out and therefore there is the reason for indeed, my terrible skin.
'sad pimple of death' is what i've titled the screenplay.

I maybe got tired of trying.
Possibly because you seem to need your space, cool.
But I may want less distance.