Oh hey, look at Emma's icon! (By which I mean, I am not your hipster!fic-writing slave, woman, no matter how tempting and logical and meant to be and--fuck. >.<)
I am a lot of things (unable to cook, a wearer of mothball-scented dresses that I get at the local equivalent of Goodwill, frequently thwarted in my plans by the advent of glitter and neon, verbose), but I'm not a hypocrite. No, not going to, as you put it, front. I do want to, badly.
At this point, dignity is such a distant memory that I doubt it was ever part of my life at all. *sigh*
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At this point, dignity is such a distant memory that I doubt it was ever part of my life at all. *sigh*
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(I have nothing but love for you.)
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