May 2011
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“So what is your end game in all of this?”
“My what?”
“Don’t pretend you didn’t hear me as a way of avoiding the question.”
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The Lost Diary of Abigail Adams, an original piece of fiction authored by me in the fourth grade.
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Watching La Notte under a freshly-laundered comforter.
simone-eastman:
Every time I have ever farted on an airplane.
My best friend, ladies and gentlemen.
I can’t be the only person who does laundry unnecessarily just to have piles of warm, sweet-smelling fabric to hide underneath, right?
I think about Anne of Cleeves a lot.
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“There are obviously areas of true and false pain, and my pain was meretricious, but how could I convince my lights and vitals of this? My youth and childhood had their deeply troubled and their jubilant years, and could some repercussions from this past account for my fear of heights? The thought of a life determined by hidden obstacles was unacceptable, and I decided to take the advice of...
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“Hey, what do you know about this Tyl—
“No. Nothing.”
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