Conversation swings: a pendulum between the extremities of tedium and monologue.
You have an inherent loathing for words, I suppose- a pity logic baulks at the face of something as nebulous as love.
I tend to be a bit…narcissistic, I suppose- placated by mellifluous syllables that coalesce into purple poetry that means nothing.
Nothingness, I forget, is a metaphysical concept you laugh at-
"Every particle has its purpose."