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Her conveyed confidence fits her like it’s another one of her bold floral pants that complement her broad creativity, pulling it on to fit the need. She denies this imagination of hers, yet you can see it in her writing, her music, the way she can ramble on for hours. You always listen. Her stories bring comfort. Sure, they're drawn out, but while formal speeches make your eyes roll back in boredom, she makes you laugh and do the same towards her wits, unconventional humor, and oblivion to proving herself wrong. She’s loyal, especially to herself, making you ache for this self-reliance that seems so foreign. Poor with compliments and comforting words, she steers away from harsh emotions, contrasting her personality like poison ivy in a garden; an unpleasant projection when you come to marvel at the roses. You want to replicate her garden, plant the same pansies, petunias, and poppies, yet they never prosper quite like hers. She’s the perfect companion to your overgrown kindness.