Essays on barbie doll poem

These days when I talk to non-fire people about the fire, they first offer sympathy, and then get that wistful look I know so, so well. It’s that look that tells me they’re about to say something like, “But aren’t you sort of glad it happened? Isn’t your life actually better now?” They’re about to wax philosophical about the “transforming power of fire,” and how they feel so burdened by all their “stuff,” and how they kind of wish it would happen to them. They’re about to make me want to smack them, frankly, because I swear to God I can see it coming a mile away, each and every time, and I am really, really sick of hearing this. But here is what I tell them:

Essays on barbie doll poem

essays on barbie doll poem

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