Title: Optional

Text: You smoke to choke the feeling, until the walls don't meet the ceiling. All we talk about is leaving. All that I know is, no matter how far away, this is the place we were made. I know every streetlight, and maybe the colors will fade, but this is the place we were made. By the late nights and fires by the beach, made by the small-town secrets we'd keep. All that I know is, no matter how far away, this is the place we were made. Each paragraph will be a test.

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