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p r o b l e m.So, you want to know what my problem is?
My problem is that I'm falling in love with you.
My problem is that I can't stop thinking of you.
My problem is that you always leave me breathless.
My problem is that your smile just makes my day.
My problem is that my heart skips whenever you're around.
My problem is that you're the most sweetest boy I've ever known.
My problem is that I want to hold you, kiss you, care for you.
My problem is that I want you, I need you, I long for you.
My problem is that my pulse quickens when we lock glances.
My problem is that I want to brush my lips against your own.
My problem is that I dream of you and wishing you were beside me.
My problem is that your laugh makes my heart melt into tiny pieces.
My problem is that when you touch me I go weak in the knees.
My problem is that I love the sound of your name.
My problem is that I like how you don't understand me at all.
My problem is that I could be having the worst day, and just the sight of y
Teenage TaoismGiving birth is the closest I’d ever felt to dying.
Before that, my near death experiences had consisted only of my silent announcement of pregnancy—silent, being that my social media accounts were all deleted almost simultaneously and I never returned to school in the fall, saying without really saying that I had caught the malicious disease of “teenage pregnancy”. I’m sure the whisper spread in the hallways like the Bubonic Plague. That September, sitting at home on what would have been the first day of my senior year, I imagined friends I’d never talk to again saying “she was only seventeen, and so full of life!” at my absence in the cafeteria tables, as if they were attending my funeral instead of talking about me behind my back.
"Full of life," I had snorted then, folding a never ending stream of what had once been my own baby clothes. "Literally."
I walked around like a zombie for the months of my pregnancy, deciding t
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