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she once laughed and i wanted to frame the sound in stained glass.
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Sometimes the urge doesn鈥檛 come because I got bad news, or because I鈥檓 tired, or happy. Sometimes I just get the urge because I know it will destroy me, and I want it to.
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I miss being in love, genuine love. No limerence, no obsession, no forced feelings from intimacy. Genuine, heartfilling love.
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I wish to be soft, and calm, and filled with peace.
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Some of you guys have never burned a CD and it shows
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the unholy trinity of piss-poor caretakers, tag yourself:
tomboy, meaning "this child is clearly queer but let's hope it goes away"
sensitive, meaning "clearly neurodivergent and often distressed but let's keep going until they grow numb"
mature, meaning "traumatized but let's ignore that"
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16 April, 1939 Letters to V茅ra by Vladimir Nabokov
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The spark in her eyes was enough to light up my whole world. I melted from the warmth she radiated.
I hope the other one knows to appreciate that.
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