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I’m 8teen years old.
There’s not much else to say.
I like stuff.
I have hobbies.
We all do. Who cares?
I hate life, like a 8teen year old should. But I
sure as hell love living it.
I’m “single.” I’m in love with the world and by in love
I don’t mean real, true, honest,
beautiful, romantic love.
I mean the sweaty, secret (or not-so,) loud, painful, fucking kind of love.
Because I’m 8teen and the world’s mine
to…would I be such a bad writer if I said 'fuck'?
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