My Apartment Feels Like A Haunted House, And I Feel Like The Ghost
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When I was a little girl, I used to sneak off to my bedroom, close the door, and imagine I was in a castle or gothic manor. My bunk bed became an elegant four-poster, my IKEA dresser an oaken chifforobe. Our apartment’s dull brick walls changed to ones made of creaking stone. The street outside, littered with empty soda cans and plastic bags, transformed into some romantic Victorian moorland. 

I wanted to live in a haunted house. I wanted to be something like the damsels in my favorite ghost...

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