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February 13, 2011
One. Three. Thirteen. Magic number? God, I'm tired. I danced too long. Can hardly move. I'm heavy in the lightest sort of way.

I want to dance in a field with dandelion puffs and thistle down getting caught in my hair. I want to dance on ice, slipping and sliding and breathing in snow. I want to dance on stage in the lights. I want to dance next to you, inside you, in your brain and soul, moving your skin with my body.

I want to be closer to you. I want to be you. I want to own you.