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You steady me. Slow and sweet we sway. Take the lead and I will follow. As a little girl I would dance barefoot on the hardwood floor preforming ballerina twirls and countless curtsies. You would think the years of practice would carry me into the ballroom, yet my dad calls me grace for a reason. Not by my act of gracefulness, but the lack thereof! Always holding a song in my heart and the passion to dance when anyone is watching, I find my heart full and my feet moving. Still today, ...
Cornflake, you are something else really. If I do not want to tell you something, then I do not need to tell you. And you brought up this woman and that just got me mad. I'm your little girl. Me. I'm sorry if I cause most of our arguments. And yes you can leave, maybe I don't want you around any further because all you do is stress me out. Over and over again we just stress each other out and I hate it. I don't need this. Just give me a break.