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2011-04-03 / 11:53 p.m.

I've been wearing boy's boxer shorts underneath my tights and they shine out all blue or pink or grey (however I might feel that day) underneath my too short skirts and I just walk around and let it happen because my hands are always too full or too fidgety to need to worry about another trivial thing, too. My boyfriend's sister looks at me and says "You're so odd", and I smile and I take it, because, why not? I know she doesn't mean it in a bad way at all, but I think she's a little ambiguous sometimes. I don't know if she's talking about my inability to hold a conversation about regular things, or the fact that I always lose one out of a pair of earrings, but continue to wear the other one anyway. Symmetry is so messed up, anyway. It makes me uncomfortable.
And so, I lie on one side of a double bed, always, or hanging half off of the edge, or on my stomach with my knee pulled up to my chest, and I allow myself to fall into that hole I've managed to tiptoe around all day. And then, just like that, I'm pulled in again. My phone beeps at just after two.

"I'm super pissed and you're super deadly."

I love you, too.

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