don't give up, self
The more she could imagine this island, the less she liked the real world. The more she could imagine the people, the less she liked any real people. It got until she didn’t belong anywhere. It got so nobody was good enough, refined enough, real enough. Nothing was as real as her imagined world.
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She could never go back and make some of the details pretty. All she could do was move forward and make the whole beautiful.
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