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give me nights in the city in the indie nooks and hang outs, my mother's corn soup, his velvet brown skin, my comfy levi's 503 and chucks, strong hands, good friends, hours to talk, bikini and beads and a blaring music truck, early 90s R and B, poetry that speaks for itself, boys with charisma and charm, hot cocoa rich and sweet, ralphs icees,BWEE non-stop to POS, a dohgla girl named shannie..
i have a teeny tiny room in manhattan that i wouldnt trade for the largest mansion in the world. with a teeny bit of good timing, you can catch teeny girls dancing on my green carpet. i am a big nerd yet a part time hedonist, so ive spent the semester figuring out how to balance thursday night labs and thursday night parties. im sorry, i really cant talk to you if you if you type in ebonics. yes i stutter slightly. i hate undriven people and love cheap tote bags. do i really need to justify the hair pulling. I'm trichtillomannia-fied. All around me everyone can't sit still. There's too much to be done, a fashion show for AIDS, art display for cancer, junk auction for the homeless. Apparently great boobs are worth saving. i am inspired easily and tend to fall for passionate and intellectual people. It's just that sexy. the song stuck in my head governs all my feelings; music is my everything. i look out my new window at the empire state to fall asleep. If only I could make a living doing something I love with the people I love.
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