Live, die, repeat.
There are some conversations that I had as a kid that, for whatever reason, I still remember clear as day. It’s weird to remember discussions I had when I was little, because my brain transplants a very adult version of me into the memory, since that’s my perception of myself, and then I’m just a large human talking to a very small human about whether or not hot dogs are made of dog.
Anyway, one of those conversations that I still remember with the crisp clarity of a Swiss lake was with a girl named Jessica. It went something like this:
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