I have a lovely boy even if if he lives two hours away and I'll only see him every other weekend. I have good friends at school, and this semester seems to be starting off well. Other than occasionally feeling a little lonely still (if I try to socialize and can't find anyone, i tend to get mopey) things are going well. I have been doing artworky
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I live with my mother in a small apartment by the beach.
I have three cats. They sit in my study all day long, sleeping.
My study is also my room.
On Sundays I walk along the beach and collect seashells.
My best friend lives in Canada. She has pink hair and a great laugh.
I grew up in California, sunning myself outside all day long.
When I was twelve I saved a three-year-old from a house fire. The heroism and attention thrust upon me made me retreat to a more solitary life.
Wednesday evenings I paint the sky.
I died when I was fourteen. My mother cried for weeks because I was her only child. When I came back she thought I was an angel until I broke her butter dish, because no angel would break anything like that.
I’m not sure how the cats felt.
My left pinky finger was chopped off in a woodcutting accident when I was six. My mother thinks it’s morbid that I still have the finger in a drawer. But my mother has all of her baby teeth, so she can’t be judgmental.
When I grow up I want to be a tree.
I used to work at an ice cream shop. We never had chocolate. We only lasted a few years.
My father was a woodsman, a lumberjack. He died when I was seven when a tree fell on him.
I very rarely wear socks. It doesn’t get cold that often, so I can go without shoes most of the time.
My mother sings in the morning.
Tuesdays I make sandcastles.
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