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Hot Chocolate

I've always wanted to be her. In every sense that someone else could actually be someone else.
Sometimes being quirky has no boundaries.
And I'm walking that thin line between appropriate and out of control.
I just want to be her.
Because she is not me.
And sometimes it's exhausting to keep up with being me.
And she's her.
And I'm not her.

There is something about painting my nails red. And wearing skimpy, lacey underwear.
I feel like I can take on the world.

5:49 p.m. - 2012-12-11

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