Let Me Cliche You To Death


You are my peeps, after all, and I feel our dynamic is such that it will really pop off the page if I tell you how much closure you’ve brought me in my journey.

When I’m with you, I feel comfortable in my skin, which, after all, is similar to your skin — or at least what lurks under there is similar since we’re really all the same under the skin, and basically that is what it is.

At the end of the day, we’re all connected in this landscape of human connection — and that makes me feel so human about the humanistic humanity of humankind.

I want to stretch my craft, but feel I already have thanks to the luminous, iconic, legendary stature that you’ve brought to my humanistic landscape of the soul, which has been quite an epic voyage, let me tell you.

Your dynamic has been so dynamite, your input has been inspiring to my emotional makeup, and you’ve also helped me apply rouge whenever my contours need contouring.

It’s been so organic I feel we actually own our organic-ness.

We share a symbiotic, antibiotic, mildly neurotic traversing of ideas, and I’m truly blessed to share each day with all the things you bring to the table.

Heck, not only are we on the same table, we’re on the same page and we’re pushing the same buttons, but the sameness has never led to a shame spiral and our connection has never been terminated by Verizon.

Thank you. God bless. Have a good one. No worries. Not my problem. Not my job. How’ve you been? Let’s do lunch.

Dead yet?

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