I’ve thought about being someone else for the longest time. Wash out the blonde, brunette, waterdown the hazel, even stir in some testosterone. How much have I sacrificed being who I am, when I could have been someone else? I like me. But I bore myself. I cross the same bridge, with matches in my pocket; I come across the same Dead End, the street name never comes to mind. I’ve given...
The Bridge
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