September 2011
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Homecoming Dress →
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I hate when my mom asks about old friends.
“Why aren’t you hanging with _______ anymore?”
and I’m just like
“She became a whore.”
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That horrible moment when you burn your tongue on hot soup.
It's as if my best isn't enough anymore.
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Stupid is the relentless pursuit for a regret free...
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I've always wanted someone to look at me and think...
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