quiet winter afternoons at home alone make me so terribly nostalgic for childhood. suddenly all i want is to feel that perfect peace again as i lie in bed with a fat “story book” and eat an obscene amount of chocolate without worrying about my weight and know that every little problem like third grade arithmetic is really a triviality. i want to reach out for gifts tucked under my pillow on christmas morning and feel that wonderful happiness.i miss not minding much, not minding having only one pair of shoes that i would wear everywhere,sneaking upon my mother’s one tube of lipstick and secretly smearing the dark red over my lips with a strange subversive thrill and not feeling the great heavy weight of wanting anything other than perhaps the next book in the wishing chair series.everything was so bright and sunny and simple and i miss it

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