Monday, July 26, 2010

February 3rd, 2008

Digging up old writing.

Sometimes, I wish that you could see me when you're not here, when I'm dancing in the kitchen with a broom and I'm careless and uninhibited and loud, when I'm delighted, when I'm alive and drunk with gratitude. I can tell that I'm sexy, that I'm someone worth loving.
I think that if you knew what I was like, when fear of disappointing you didn't cripple me into stupidity, you'd love me even harder than you already do.

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