How?
Do I sleep,
Do I eat?
How?
Do I brush my hair,
Do I wash my face?
How?
Do I give my orders,
Do I rule my nation?
How?
Me? Undeserving, ugly, twisted me?
Mother? I need you. The tears are coming down onto my paper again. My diary is becoming very wet. Mother?
I write to te because I cannot speak to you. And be me.
Azula. Poor Azula they must all say. The servants, the people...my friends.
Oh my friends. How I envy them so.
Ty Lee and her charisma. Everyone loves her. She's all smiles.
Mai. Quiet. Wit sharp as a razor. Silent confidence. Nonchalance.
Me. Poor ugly undeserving me.
How will I make it,...
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