Typing, typing, typing. This whole process seems so foreign to me, and yet I know that I'm extremely competent in the field.
I used to be a writer; I know that, it is documented here. I used to sparkle, and held an unwavering optimism, I used to shine, and be breathtaking all because I felt like the world around me sparkled, it inspired unwavering optimism, it shined and was breathtaking...oh how did I come so far. So far from the girl I used to be, the girl she was meant to be, all of her hopes, all of her dreams snuffed out like a short lived flame.
She thought she'd fly, she thought her words would matter, she cherished the brightness of her future, she cherished that something within her self that I'm not even sure that I can identify anymore. She is miles apart from me, she's just the girl I used to be and it went so fast it's almost like it hasn't happened at all.
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