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I often think about any talents I may or may not have. Skills. Creativity. I usually end up disappointed pretty quick. As much as I love music, and subsist on it, I have no musical talent. I can write fourth-rate doggerel poems and second-rate fiction. The only thing that might have promise is the words that flow from experience, but even then I'm unsure. During my last reflection on this topic, I realized something I can do well. Supremely well. Too well, probably. It's a cliche, except not. Cliches are the hammers in toolboxes of communication, after all. I can love.