I remember what I wore on my first day of grade 8. I don't even want to think about it. Think about channeling the early 90s in the almost new decade of the 2000s, the bright tights, a lot of pop punk girl bands, weird hair, but really nice teeth. In grade ten, I got braces to fix my overbite. Five months later, I had to get them removed. Not because my teeth were already fixed, but because my health insurance changed.
Today, I began my third semester of college. It's technically my second if you count the first semester. I don't. I dropped out and flew out of the country. To follow my heart. To feel cold and bitter and immerse myself in numb. I learned not feeling anything all at once is the biggest burden. You wake up in your own bed, in your hometown, and wonder what you just did. I am a huge dreamer with lips that kiss fear on the mouth. With tongue. A lot like grade 8. I am a wandering body with a new soul. I am always born again on important days. I live my life like everyday has a purpose. I will say that everyday does, but sometimes the purpose of a late morning is for being trapped in your sheets and letting your anxiety tear your flesh from the inside out. I don't know where I am going with this, but I will soon. Isn't that everyone's excuse?
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