| I like the feeling of being a blank state.
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| I think I’ve come through something.
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| This is hard for me to admit.
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| In the past I have always expected the worst to happen.
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| Perhaps I still do think the worst will happen,
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| But what if it doesn’t?
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| What if, at this point,
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| I am in fact free.
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| That I can walk down the street.
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| Get on the bus.
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| Buy a magazine.
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| Talk to a guy in a shop.
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| Try on pair of shoes.
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| I don’t need permission.
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| I can do that.
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| I got my room now,
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| And that’s important.
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| It’s like a base for me,
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| And then there’s that guy, James.
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| I don’t want him to bother me.
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| I don’t want anyone to bother me.
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| I don’t want anyone in my hair.
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| I got my room and that’s the main thing,
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| But he is okay.
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| If I could allow one person to bother me,
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| It might possibly be James.
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| Who knows?
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| It is too early to say.
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| I still got the CD that one of the girls in the hospital made me.
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| I can’t imagine who made it for her.
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| All of the music is pretty old on it.
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| Pretty random stuff
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| I like it though.
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| I wouldn’t have liked this stuff before,
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| But hey, I’m a blank slate.
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| I can like it.
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| There’s no rules.
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| No agenda.
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| No learning.
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| Just music.
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| Sweet, simple music.
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| I’ve been memorizing my favorites.
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| I don’t have any instruments.
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| I’ve just been sitting in a patch of sunlight
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| At the put of the bed in front of the mirror.
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| I keep one headphone out,
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| And I sing the track along with the CD.
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| I wonder if my voice sounds good.
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| I wonder if I’m even in tune.
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| I have even tried a few scales,
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| Though very quietly.
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| How uncool is that?
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| Me singing scales in my new room.
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| On the disk is written Jackson Brown, Nina Simone, Bill Withers
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| On the disk is written Howard Jones.
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| Right now I feel like a starving person who is tasting food for the first time.
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| Howard Jones is my Mozart.
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| He is like buttered toast.
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| Don’t ever tell anyone I said that.
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| I wonder what I should do.
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| When I was in the hospital it was easy.
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| They had a schedule.
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| I was like a kid the whole time.
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| They were in charge; |
| I was a kid.
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| I jumped up and came down here.
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| I put from my mind comfortable thoughts about hospital life.
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| I am trying to block out thoughts about sex.
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| I feel like I want to sing, but I’m in the library.
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| I have fantasized for two years now about a job.
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| Any job.
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| Any job that would plucks me back into some sort of normal rhythm,
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| Some sort of normal society.
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| I thought for a while that the flock was going to be enough,
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| But I have to keep moving.
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| I am twenty three.
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| What the hell am I doing in a high street library
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| Writing about nothing?
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| I wouldn’t mind kissing him once more.
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| Or at least, I wouldn’t mind having a kiss only policy with him.
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| For some reason I feel that it shouldn’t go any further,
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| But he’s a pretty sensational kisser, hence the policy.
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| I wonder if I could do myself some sort of internal injury.
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| If I just kissed then left the room as soon as the kiss was over.
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| If I never took the seduction any further forward,
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| I couldn’t damage a kidney or a loin or something.
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| It’s a bit annoying I can’t go into the boy’s shop.
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| I want his advice.
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| I was to dress, or something.
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| But I look too much like a boy these days.
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| Why can’t I look like a girly girl once in a while? |