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We would beg him to put it on, and the three of us would dance around the living room, the bright green carpet becoming grass under my tippy toes.

It was probably not the healthiest of looling, as my mom lived in the house for a couple more months before we moved her Minnesota, but I wanted to spend as much time as I could soaking up the dwindling time I had left to spend with my parents lookingg a family. I finally began to notice the imperfections. The fact that she had made this mistake if you can call it that irked me. My favorite line, and one of the easiest to connect to classic literature, is from the very end of the very last book.

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Maybe I am my more sadistic desires. My surplus military issue parka had plenty of pockets for road pops - covered in punk rock, scooter rally, and hog soul patches it placed me in no group and yet every group I gave a shit about, all in one inane gesture of self-righteous-exclusion via geeky association. I wrote my first poem down there, too. The little man sitting behind the wheel rocked back and forth to the song that I always assumed was being sung by the hot dogs dancing in the serving window.

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This is my nonfiction game; my flavor of mental illness. It felt like home. Or is that just time, stealing all those sharp edges, melting them in the heat? I turn you around on the bed and open your legs.

Until I am no longer hiding inside my skin. You feel so much thinner than you should.

I remember being at her house, playing with her toys. It was an odd experience. What I see; A house.

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I sit in silent contemplation over whether Fm protecting her or just stubbornly hiding from my own fears for the next hour. It was only across town, but I hated the new house, hated the idea of moving, and sulked for weeks afterward. Then again, maybe iVe never been a danger just to myself Then Wiff, there may never be a last time as long as idle hands remain able.

I awake from these dreams wondering who I am that I might have such thoughts. Why on Earth would I ever consider leaving this place?

Women’s, gender, and sexuality studies (ba)

No longer in West Lafayette, we had moved out far enough to be part of Battle Ground. So despite the frosted glass of my memory, I can still feel my heart jump and my head spin. The owners had taken most of the appliances, so we bought a microwave in order to make easy meals in the meantime.

Fm an asshole and I feel like I need to deal with that and understand it and deal with whatever it is. The only place other than the house that I would willingly call home Ottterbein our timeshare at Disney World: Saratoga Springs.

She was still miserable. On some level, I felt betrayed. Alma, you say.

It has to be. It used to be I only felt that way when I was with my family, wherever that happened to be. Has my dad? I am single by choice, can't find what I'm looking for at a club, not that I can on here just thought I would try. But I needed someone to be there for me. I was told you died quickly.

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I told her you slept on my futon and went to get smokes. But can I ask for more? Worth a loking glance, perhaps True, yes, but not beautiful We were not meant for beauty We were not meant to define it, either. Do you find yourself disturbingly wet!

The hem of my father s oversized t-shirt trembled around my calves, as I heard Otterben tell me that she was in charge of me. We repainted after some rebellious teenagers ransacked it—spray painting the sides of the house and the trampoline. They, like me and Jess, are dedicated to the written word, and strove to put a quality magazine together.