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A Mind of Curiosity
I am curious about the girl that moved into the big white house with the red painted front door at age 2.
I am curious what her parents would make for breakfast before she had to go to school at age 6.
I am curious what her dreams and goals are at age 10.
I am curious if the years she’s spent in this big white house with the red painted front door with her mom and dad have been everything she has ever hoped for.
I am curious what happened to the girl who had once lived in that big white house with that red painted front door, who now had moved away because her parents had split at age 11.
I am curious if her parents remember to make her breakfast before school at age 15, or if their too hungover to even get themselves up.
I am curious if her grades were good enough to help her accomplish her dreams and goals at age 18, or if she couldn’t get those good grades because she was up all night waiting for her parent to come home from that crazy party; instead of studying.
I am curious if the years she’d spent in that big white house with that red painted front door with her mom and dad behind it had been anything but what she had hoped for.
I am curious if after all these years she has lived, if that smile on her face was the only thing painted, not that big white house with that red painted front door.
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