If I were a fruit, I’d be a prickly pear. If I were an animal, I’d be a porcupine. If I were a superhero, I’d be …

I have a DNA strand that somewhere got some thistles attached. My impatience, arrogance, adrenaline, loudness, word choice, admiration for curse words, fuse into liquid magnesium, or some other volatile but strong element. And it can be tempered, there are a few antidotes, but it is a flowing stream.

I never really know what to do with it. Do I even want the thorns to be sanded down? My quills plucked? Just for more hugs? I don’t think so.

to fail or not to fail, what is your response

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