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›post #551
›bio: kristen
›perma-link
›9/30/2024
›12:31

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and my hands look like old ladies' and I'm tired. God, I was a simpering wimp again - unlikable to my sister. I think a lot of it is that Paris was a long time ago. And her life is so the polar opposite of mine I don't know how to even compare.

I revved up my little car and took it back to base.

I notice that when I'm out of my comfort zone, boy do I have a hard time.

"we love you. we don't like you."

and I feel it. And driving down that highway it was like her in the truck.

Finally cried.

crying now.

the girl I used to be and the woman who betrayed her I am now...

leaving her with nothing but charity and slim threads.

self pity plummets down my cheeks and drops from my fiery throat.

all the mis-said - all the wrong said. All the adventure not had.

and thank god I have charity. it may allow me to survive.

the girl thought she'd ...

dunno - write, create, become discovered, act, famous...

she ended up in an office.
at least on paper, there's a master's degree if she can land on her feet,
get her head above water,

sin to be saved.

Here I am

and no urge to tread on the old days.... I'd done it once before - walked the beloved quad and so... but now, I just feel low.





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