I'm a lonely girl. Really, really lonely. Not lonely, as in friendless, but lonely as in different. I have friends, but none of them understand my love of literature, except one, But only reading. And I have one other one, but I hardly see her. Sometimes I relate to E.A. Poe. We've got problems. And we use them to write. Gimme a piece of paper. Gimme a pen. Gimme five minutes. It'll work out. I'll make it work.
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