When I was 6 I craved attention. When my parents were too busy I would cry. But what one might call a brat, another might call a needy child. At dinner, I’d hide my extra pieces of chicken under heaps of rice, thinking my mother would never know I had not eaten my protein. Before school, at breakfast, I’d have a glass of that disgusting orange “
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i love you
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I'm going to live in Spain all July. Bye New York.
i love you more sweet pea on a honey oak tree
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