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Darlene used to talk about her street life as if it was the
only game in town. She had tried to sell her baby, Jimmy. She regularly roughed up
street punks and loved to harass gay men. She felt as if
she was above social expectation and was intolerant of people
who didn't see life through her eyes. Well, she would have
you think that she was "all that".
She was scared shitless. She only let her guard down
when she'd talk about her appearance in the casket. She
worried about her hair, about her dress, about how she'd look
dead.
She looked spectacular. She had found peace.
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