Love is a form of prejudice. You love what you need, you love what makes you feel good, you love what is convenient. How can you say you love one person when there are 10,000 people in the world that you would love more if you ever met them? But you'll never meet them.
It's been exactly a year since I saw Jeremy and I miss the way I would go to his parties and invite people he didn't even know. I miss holding his hand when we went ice skating and his mother calling me a slut [rofl]. I miss him and his Townsend friends we went swimming with that made fun of my socks and jumped on the trampoline. And most of all, I
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that is the way the leaves fall around a tree in autumn ; a tree unaware of the rain running down its sides, of the sun or the frost, and of life gradually retreating inward. the tree does not die. it waits ...
I feel stunned and disconnected, as if I'm dreaming. A great ball of rage and grief and anguish is swelling inside my chest, yet I feel outside of everything, as if I were floating high above everything, looking down
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I hate change. I hold on to things and it's becoming a bad habit. I could never call this place home. Everyone back home thinks I'm making living here seem so bad but they aren't in my situation. They don't know my mom. Listening to friends say that I'm making life sound worse than it really is hurts
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