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It's what you do to meIt's the way i wake
And the unnnatural sleep
That keeps the dreams in front of me.
It's the way i smile
And try not to think
That takes its toll on this reality.
It's the look i give
When the doubt sets in
And the way that music means so much somehow.
It's the way you cope
And the way i know
How important it is in the world you seek.
It'd how you change me
And the looks that break me
And the way the hope is gone when it was just about to save me.
It's the way i try
And the way i curse
And the way it feels THIS GOOD to be in misery...
It's what you do to me.
Teenage TaoismGiving birth is the closest I’d ever felt to dying.
Before that, my near death experiences had consisted only of my silent announcement of pregnancy—silent, being that my social media accounts were all deleted almost simultaneously and I never returned to school in the fall, saying without really saying that I had caught the malicious disease of “teenage pregnancy”. I’m sure the whisper spread in the hallways like the Bubonic Plague. That September, sitting at home on what would have been the first day of my senior year, I imagined friends I’d never talk to again saying “she was only seventeen, and so full of life!” at my absence in the cafeteria tables, as if they were attending my funeral instead of talking about me behind my back.
"Full of life," I had snorted then, folding a never ending stream of what had once been my own baby clothes. "Literally."
I walked around like a zombie for the months of my pregnancy, deciding t
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