Even while I may look like I'm gasping at the seams, I am still a child. I am the beanstalk in a valley infected with dwarfism. I am feeble, uncertain, and pleading. I am a leach, set out to jab people in my incessant approach towards amiability and conversation. I really am, though, tearing at the seams. I've been so close to crying, childishly,
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we are insomniacs of the mind together.
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I like your icon, where's it from?
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