When it gets hard to see the love between people, it may a prudent inclination to break off a piece of dark chocolate and eat it. Thomas Jefferson was 83 years old when he died. Be glad you’re not him. I remember when I was 14 years old, I thought to myself, “My whole life has been leading up to this sleepover.” Turns out, it was, but then there are a thousand other things that my life is leading up to, namely tomorrow. As a baby, my pajamas were nakedness (we’re going back in time now…) and as a toddler, they were underwear from TJ Maxx and my older brother’s t-shirts. One hazy night, for a few moments, they were a stranger’s hands. Another night, a warm blanket made of worn felt. Thomas Jefferson probably wore one of those long white night gowns to bed. Lucky bastard. Well, now unlucky bastard.
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