My mother says, julia, I don’t like your use of language.

And I say, this is what happens when you give birth in texas.
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Lead the way you were meant to lead, and you’ll always find a way to get somewhere.
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Any time life’s knocking on your door and you feel compelled to run away, turn around, open the door and accept what’s on the other side. That’s the only way you’ll ever stop running.
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I know you, he says.

Maybe in a past life, I say.

No seriously, he says. Or maybe in dream.

If we’ve met in a dream, tell me. What color was I?

I don’t know, he says. He doesn’t understand the question.

If we’d really met, he would know that I am black and I am red.

But to the blue man with the olive skin, I am something so, so, so pure and simple.

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