Is this real? Or has this just been happening inside my head? Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?
I had an epiphany the other night: Cross Lucy Pevensie with Jane Eyre and add a dash of misantrophic, Lilith-Fair-esque irony, and you've roughly approximated me.
The cliffnotes: I am a terminal optimist.
I heart Jesus.
And I'm tougher than you think.
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