• In a world far from my own there is a girl much like myself. When I sit she sits. When I cry she cries. But we will probably never meet. She is wondering what I am wondering. But she thinks she is alone. She thinks her pain is felt by only her, she thinks her sorrow is so much her own. And when she cries I cry. When she stands I stand. She is as much of me as I am of her. We may be time apart or space but when I die she dies.

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