DarlaRoeNordick
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The best day of your life is the one on which you decide your life is your own. No one to lean on, rely on, or blame. The gift is yours- it is an amazing journey- and you alone are responsible for the quality of it. This is the day your life really begins. Friday, January 10, 2014. This is to a boy who got into my head with all the pretty things he said. To the same boy who got inside my heart leaving slashes and then forgot to stitch it back.
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Thursday, January 9, 2014. A Honest Poem. From Me For You. I come from a cookie cutter family. Where mom works too late, my brothers dont use their table manners, and somewhere in the mix there are even some daddy issues. I dont have a sister so I guess thats were I fit in. I cant sing and I never learned how to play the piano. I heard the Killers for the first time in 4th grade and they are still my favorite band. I have pockets full of secrets and I am neck deep with regrets. Take me if you can.CONTENT
This web page darlaroenordick.blogspot.com states the following, "Thursday, January 9, 2014." We saw that the webpage said " I come from a cookie cutter family." It also said " Where mom works too late, my brothers dont use their table manners, and somewhere in the mix there are even some daddy issues. I dont have a sister so I guess thats were I fit in. I cant sing and I never learned how to play the piano. I heard the Killers for the first time in 4th grade and they are still my favorite band. I have pockets full of secrets and I am neck deep with regrets. Take me if you can."SEEK SIMILAR DOMAINS
Friday, June 13, 2014. Only the good die young. She was in the same spot as me. We worked the same hours at the same store while we waited for the missionaries who left at the same time. We were even planning weddings for the same week. Why her? Why do the good die young? I want you to explain why her sisters are.
10027; Fic de teash , Ma deuxieme. Alors merci beaucoup pour vos comentaires qui. Abonne-toi à mon blog! 9733; w ii. Fic , mais j 3. S QUII VOUDRAIIT ÊTR 3. Nt ma fic , 3.
FOUUUNDINE , avec 3 U . BLOG SUR LES PHOTOS DE LA FAMILLE . Abonne-toi à mon blog! 22 - o7 - 2oo8. 22 - o7 - 2oo8. 22 - o7 - 2oo8. 22 - o7 - 2oo8. 22 - o7 - 2oo8.
She was grief written, but no one saw the words traced with salty ink. Friday, August 28, 2015. There once was a little girl with indecisive eyes,. Whose Mother put her soft blonde hair into pigtails and ribbons,. Which the little girl would pull out moments later,. Leaving her hair wild like her spirit. There once was a little girl with rosy cheeks,. Whose Mother would try to gently wipe food from,. But the little girl would push her hands away screaming in protest,.