18. Chicago. These are a few of my favorite things.


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the look on my mom’s face as she was walking out of my dorm just broke my heart

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what a better way to spend my last day at home then drowning myself in my own tears over TFiOS

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To wish you were someone else
is to waste the person you are.
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I wanted to tell the book thief many things, about beauty and brutality. But what could I tell her about those things that she didn’t already know? I wanted to explain that I am constantly overestimating and underestimating the human race—that rarely do I ever simply estimate it. I wanted to ask her how the same thing could be so ugly and so glorious, and its words and stories so damning and brilliant.