I have no interest in the leading of men
I forget so often just how much of a mirror I am. Reading a hard sf book? I'm analytical and removed. Reading a romance? I'm frisky. I match energy almost subconsciously and it doesn't even have to be from another person
Have you read The garden of forking paths by Borges? It's about the variances that open up in front of us and the weight of the different paths our lives can take. When I want to speak I feel that joyful burden most acutely
I don't see how anyone could be upset with more love in the world