Love Can Only Be Made


Many people will love you, but none of them can give you love.

The love you feel, you made.

You can choose to love whatever, so choose to love everything.

I want to quit writing things to entertain myself, or teach myself, or show someone I did something, or was something, or want to be something, or want to stop something, whatever, but I feel I need to write to tell you about me.  I can’t think of any better way to do that than blogging on a large public service because of the current situation.  If I write things on paper, those papers may never reach you should anything happen to me. It’s likely this blogging service will be online for many years.

I don’t know what music you like, the books you read, the games you play, or what you want to be when you grow up, but I do know that you’re curious about your parents.  Everyone is curious about their parents.

At the present time, I cannot give you anything but information.

The most important piece of information is that I love you and I miss you.

I’m hesitant to document publicly many of the things I’ve experienced.  Perhaps the thing to do is encrypt the information here along with hints on how to build your key.


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