My white picket fence
“My white picket fence would appear. Everything behind closed doors would be perfect.”
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Tag: out of control
my story grew heftier
“my story grew heftier, full of confusion and grief. It became second nature for me to practice and recite my lines for my dramatic sob story. My fishbowl was filled with murky water and I had become so accustomed to it that my clarity was absolutely distorted.”
