I used to be happy all the time. I used to laugh and love out loud. I was wild once. I was free. I’ve been trying to find my way back to that girl who danced in her underwear. Rachel was helping me find her. I miss her. I miss me. Tears slip down my cheeks as I watch the lights on my Christmas tree blink and twinkle—red and blue, green and pink. Blink. Blink. Blink. “Fuck this,” I say, my resolve hardening in my chest. I am that girl. Slapping my phone down on the counter, I march across my apartment and into my bedroom, heading straight for the closet. Determination burns in my chest like a
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