A bit of a thread killer perhaps, he’s very earnest I’ll give him that.
SKIP ME: Instead next person pick someone from you friends list, someone you haven’t talked to recently, and say something about them.
But sail upon the wind of lamentation, my friends, and about your head row with your hands' rapid stroke in conveyance of the dead, that stroke which always causes the sacred slack-sailed, black-clothed ship Charon to pass over Acheron to the unseen land here Apollon does not walk, the sunless land that receives all men.
Your personal identity is like your own little ball of Qi. Some display it proudly. Others completely conceal it. Some altogether squelch it. You hold it around you in a ball; if no one cares, you don't bother them about it, but if they want to see it, you let them.