"You turned out to be so much more sentimental than I ever thought you would be in high school," he said to me on Sunday.
“But I’m not sentimental about THINGS!” I insist. “I don’t care about things. I’m not attached to things!” I feel the contradiction as I speak it,
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It was humid just like any other day in August. They say the mountains are cooler in the summertime and that’s why so many Floridians come to live there each June. I never understood that. It felt oppressively hot to me. That day, the sun beat down in the way that causes the little beads of sweat to bubble up on my nose.
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Words have always been tiny sacred vessels to me, from the time I was a young child. Words of sentimentality don't leave my lips flippantly. Love is real and strong and powerful and should not be mentioned casually.
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