The thrill of a blank page filling with watercolor bleeding into raw emotion, or a book’s twist that steals my breath.
It’s vulnerability: cracked-open songs, honest laughter, the spark when someone sees me. Quiet, deep, alive. What makes your blood sing? 🔥
Turns Off
It’s the chill of disconnection, the sting of being unseen. I crave warmth, truth, gentle hands. What pushes you away? 🌑
