When it comes right down to it . . .
I miss the comfort of my bedroom at home. I miss the angled ceilings, the smell of it on hot summer days. My full sized bed.
When it comes right down to it . . .
I miss dancing, and running through halls and giggling and wishing. I miss my friends from my old neighborhood and I miss rollerblade basketball and hours of being outside and coming home with grass-stains and bruises and gritty palms.
When it comes right down to it . . .
I don't want to grow up. I don't want to miss these things. I don't want to miss people, I just want them to be around forever and constantly within my reach.
When it comes right down to it . . .
I don't know a lot, and what I do know seems to be shrinking in proportion and percentage.
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