Sometimes it doesn't matter how old you are, because a terse conversation with an estranged parent can make you feel 17 all over again. And a conversation with someone whose memory wipes itself clean every couple years can make you feel like you're the one who's losing her mind.
I'm the hero of this story, I don't need to be saved.
I'm the hero of this story, I don't need to be saved.
I'm the hero of this story, I don't need to be saved.
It's alright, it's alright, it's alright, it's alright, it's alright, it's alright, it's alright.
No one has it all.
Tomorrow I return to Toronto. Tomorrow I rejoin my real life.
In other unrelated news, the total number of relatives inqquiring into my future marital status and uterus activity: three. Not bad.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
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