i have many pores, in which i soak up, transport, and release. emotions, memories, freeze-frame moments from my soul.
i absorb culture and environment and relationship quickly. i soak up twice my own weight. i hold tight, but everything i have been dipped in oozes out of each orifice.
it is hard to rinse me clean. to let neutral permeate through each interstice, until the water runs colorless again.
every new dip will be tainted by the soakings of the past; never fully independent of antecedent absorptions.
afterall, i am a sponge.
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