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Going to the psychiatrist is like visiting the funeral parlor for my brain. I hate paying my respects. There are never enough condolences.

Puttin on my Nashville Boots

Here I found all I need was some new heels to click against the ground so dangling sounds to softly pound by my ear drum hearing beats taking me across crowded 1 am downtown streets. Things were easier in my flower print dress. Summertime tans tell me this day was a success. Staring down the…