I'm not saying that I'm crying now that Chelsea got married today, but is hard to watch another childhood fantasy become unavailable. At this point, all I have left is the Feather Duster from Beauty and the Beast, and she's an animated inanimate object. I'm can't pinpoint what attracted me to Chelsea: perhaps it was the power, or perhaps it was that she was the only person who had an awkward phase that could rival my own. All I know is that I wanted to run my fingers through her friz and have our braces interlock mid-kiss.
Oh well. I'll never give up hope; infidelity runs in the family.
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