alilablonde


This morning I woke up, the sun streaming through the slats of my window. It isn't always that way. The predictable stories of teenage angst are mine to manipulate. Their new shape emerges here, with a sixteen year old. I'm not predictable or even that spontaneous, I have my youth and thats what I write from. Sixteen years young. Seattle. Junior, hoping to survive.
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BOOM.

BOOM.