I shake my head, offering a cruel smile. “No. I’m not going to tell you what I’m thinking. You want a gold star for remembering a region of food I like and a color that I wear all the time? Good for you, I’m sure your fans will be weeping at how goddamn sentimental and caring you are. But none of this is real. You don’t get to know me. You don’t get to back me into a corner and demand I tell you things about myself so you can feel better about being a fuckup in college, then use it against me in a stupid podcast recording to prove you’re some sort of nice guy and deserve the frenzy of
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