Most of my flist are writers with a few artists tossed in. Although I don't always comment on your posts, I do always read them. I do, however, notice styles, details, certain turns of phrase that are uniquely...you, or at least I think I do
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She pat her cheek with her pale hand, sighing at the reflection that she saw. She was nervous-- about to go on stage, to sing her new trademark. Her hair was like her idol's. Her eyes were remarkably the same; shiny, beautiful, emotion-filled. It was ten seconds before she was going to leave, and she wasn't supposed to be depressed on who she was supposed to be.
"I'll be me. Meer Campbell."
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Tomorrow, he will leave Korea. Tomorrow, he will leave his friends, his family...
...and more importantly, me.
Finally, he breaks the silence. "I'm not gonna be gone forever," he says in the most reassuring way he can. He fails to comfort me, however. His voice is shaky. He is in the verge of tears.
"Don't cry," I say. I am hoping to sound cold. But I know he can see right through it.
"I'm not crying," he replies, followed by a subtle sniff. "My eyes are just itchy."
"You're not just a crybaby. You're a terrible liar too,"
He pouts but I know that he knows: I did not mean that.
"I'm starting to miss you a lot," he says. He is urging me to speak up, to not keep my mouth shut like I am doing now.
But I've played this game so many times before. I'm not going to let him win this time.
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