The Renegade Rulebook

I woke up to this song this morning, in that lingering space between conscious and asleep, where one foot was still in whatever I was dreaming about, and the other foot was itching to get into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. You know that place? Where, if somebody were to ask you a life or death question that needed an immediate answer, you would probably mumble “Yellow”, or “Seventeen”, or “My purse is in the oven.”, and roll in the opposite direction.

I woke up to this song slowly.

It’s funny how some people hear the music, while others only hear the words.

I always hear words, and two or three lines into the song I realized I haven’t always been a beautiful girl.

Actually, there was a long period of time where I knew what the word beautiful meant, and I could only identify it in…

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