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December 8, 2004
I have a boy. He is no ordinary boy. He makes me dance with a snap of his fingers, twirl around and around till he tells me to stop. He makes me cry with the hint of his own tears, as though I am trying to rid of them for him. He has silly eyes when he looks at me, too. He sees smooth where I see bumpy, beauty in what I deem imperfection. He's cracked me open, rearranged my insides. He's placed my heart in a carousel microwave, defrosted it, warmed it slowly and evenly, never making it dizzy.