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least common denominator

she's a confused artist, selfish humanitarian of a teenager and she wears her identity like an uncomfortably stiff dress that she's been forced into. her homework is surrounded by doodles on all sides and no one has ever seen eyes so blue. her nails are neon green, and if that doesn't yell look at me i am special please LOOK AT ME then just see her smile, crooked and uncertain and so, so, so hopeful. her fingers bleed words and when she breathes its a prayer, like the world is f***ed up and s***ty but there is Something out there that i would like to find. and when she goes into the city and men without legs rattle their plastic cups at her, then it's not even a request, it's a demand. show her something beautiful. give her something special, NOW.


there is her, and then, there is me. i used to think we might be the same person but that can't possible be true. picture her, awkward and defiant and restless: she will be Special someday and she will go Places but not me. i am just a Girl. i am Nobody. i am still hoping for the day when she proves me wrong.



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