Day 53: It’s always a bit silly to tell people I live in Beverly Hills. Everyone knows of it and has an expectation of what it’s supposed to be, so the responses I’d usually get are usually some form of “Ooh fancy” followed by some flirty batting eyelashes.
What they don’t know is how crappy my apartment is. Drawers sticks, the floor creaks, and to this day the oven isn’t connected because the electric outlet is on the other side of the kitchen. Still, I’m so drawn to its imperfections.
I’m going to write a book about it, I keep telling myself.
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