If anyone would like to buy me DVD of The Secret Life of Walter Mitty, I'm pretty sure I'd love you for the rest of my life.
That's The Secret Live of Walter Mitty. Eternal Love. Dame lo.
To be concise, I can't feel something without describing it. Probably, this is due to some sort of traumatic experience I had in the womb. I hate the expression, "She wears her heart on her sleeve." It makes the subject sound weak and whiny. I concede that I am both of these things, but I don't like to come right out and say it...mostly because I'm an arrogant fool. I'd rather refer to myself as effusive. If you'll sit a while and read, I'm sure you'll agree.
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