i found a postcard today, one i never sent. Now it's too late. I remember when they told me. It was christmas and i was peeling potatoes. It was hot that day. I didn't know how to hear that. What could i say? i just cried silently, viciously peeling potatoes, until she hugged me. I needed that hug more than anything else
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It's the only word that comes to mind when I read that.
Fuck him for saying you aren't a natural writer.
The day you are not a natural writer is the day that 'Beautiful' no longer comes to my mind and tears no longer come my to eyes.
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I cant think of anything to say.
but it is beautiful.
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Just wanted to say hi, really. That's all. We should talk more. And not becuase I blurt out ridiculous dramatic things and make you feel akward. We should just talk, in general.
Cheers,
Brian Anderson
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why am i up at 12 at night grafwer ghjfg i should be sleeping. but i still have to do history and write about ways harper lee explores racism in to kill a mockinbird.
yeah youre name is alexandra but youre more a lexi that anything else.
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