It's endlessly ironic to me that the skill I possess that normally brings me close to people and undergirds all my successful relationships would prove such a paltry device in certain unnamed circumstances.

Overcommunication works so well for so many people! An open book can't be distrusted.

But to you, oh confusing phantoms, the pages hold no interest and when the leaves are extended the volume seems to take up a rudely inconsiderate amount of space.

Maybe I need to reconsider my genre. Or is it just that I ask too much from my readers? Even so -- to understand the next twist, you're going to have to forgive my self-indulgence.

Even if I have gotten a little carried away, it's still all about you, my passively observant friend(s). But this time, instead of explaining myself as simply and awkwardly as possible, here comes chapter and verse. Whatever it takes to keep us face to book.