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Dear Blind Girl: I’m your acting instructor. Cool right? Anyway, I dream about you.

Sometimes you walk past my office and I’m like damn I wish I could say something but I don’t because: I don’t know why actually. I’m guessing you want me though, so I’m going to open with “I LOVE YOU.” Then I’ll apologize for following you around constantly and calling you sighing weirdly in the middle of the night when you’re trying to read with your fingers. Then you’ll touch my face. No that’s the statue, my face has more of a marzipan-type consistency.

In conclusion: