growing up i forget i'm 18 years old most of the time; other times i'm sad, but i'm not unhappy because i can be happy- most of the time. i don't read anymore only blog posts and captions of pictures on instagram. i delete my facebook when i'm sad when people ask me where i went i don't answer. it's been a while since i've written anything. happy things don't inspire me; the papers i'm forced to write are bland and graded with letters. for a couple of years i convinced myself i didn't have feelings. it was easier that way because i could never get hurt. i got hurt for a few months when i met a boy, fell in love, and stopped writing. now we're falling out of love and i'm back to where i started; sad. 18. writing about things that inspire me.
Sienna Williamson
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Lucy
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Oliver
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