fourteen, reprise

La noche pasada: Napkin, red ink, me unable to sleep. Note to self. Pre-purpose scribbles. "I'm telling you the truth here, Claire," she said. I should have hung up on her. I should have done something.
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I saw the name to your journal && clicked. (Hoping it wasn't some 13 year old babbling about their pointless life.)


As soon as I read your entry-I loved it.

I read them all.


You write so beautifully.