dear insecurity,

dear insecurity,

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you're so popular, have you noticed? everyone knows you, yet no one likes you. you're the friend of a friend that tags along and doesn't know when to head home. you're not human--in every possible meaning of that word. so, forgive me for the bad language. dear insecurity, f**k you. where i write to my insecurity.
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There's not a lot that can freak me out in this world. Only large animals with sharp claws, too many people touching me, bullies, hives, horror movies, sitting underneath fans or lights or anything that dangles from a ceiling, glass or wooden bridges, my mother, mosquitoes, public situations, taking a shower with nobody in the house, taking a shower with too many people in the house and crocks. Oh, and zombies. Zombies is definitely on that list. It's almost a shame too, that I have to race through a city packed full of them to find my missing family. Packed full of zombies, by the way, not crocks. (Although I don't know which situation is worse.) Now I have to not only keep my feeble body alive, but also protect (or be protected by) my two best friends in the entire world as we all try to survive in a city packed with the Dead.

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