So I am beautiful. They all tell me that I'm beautiful, so I must be. But what is real beauty? It is nice to hear, but I want to hear the heart say it, not the mind. Why must love be so complicated? Why must I spend my late hours in a lonely world of questions? Do I really want to know the answers? What fun is in that? Yet, I am still asking
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I've read it atleast 12 times. I think we think alike. You know, that way of thinking when no one else understands what you're thinking.
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