It’s storming outside right now. I stare out the window. I can’t tell you if it rained yesterday or even what day it is. It always feels like I’m waking up, minute after minute, like I’m in my own little time zone. But as I trace my smiling scar—unable to do so without remembering the time Thomas poked two eyes onto my wrist with dirt—I still have hope in what Evangeline and Leteo hope for, too. And while I wait, happiness exists where I can get it. In these notebooks, where worlds of memories greet me, almost like a childhood friend who moved away for years and finally came back home. I’m
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