Sometimes, I feel quite
like the loneliest girl
in the whole world. It’s
not easy, being her.
You could probably figure
that out, though, by the look
on her face. Exhausted,
bored, generally dead in the eyes.
I say she because I only feel
like this loneliest girl. I’ve no
evidence to suggest I really
am her.
But who is to say I am not?
I would not push away the man
to show me I am wrong.
Present her to me; I dare you.
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