Real talk from the Paris support group

Hi, my name is Tiffany
You can call me Korra
and I've had this addiction now for my whole life.
It started with the small stuff, you know... gateway arts
like listening to music, coloring books
but then it got worse...
I started writing short stories and poetry, dancing
It became a regular thing to turn to
to take the edge off things, to make life easier
I didn't start the hard stuff until about a year ago
I... I started a blog.
This addiction has gotten to the point that
I don't even know how to function without it.
It is my life now.
And being expected to just go cold turkey after Monday-
when you go to Paris, you won't want to leave
And I'm going to linger a little longer.

Because Paris has taught me that I'm more than just Korra.
I'm Korra. I'm freaking Korra.
Korra, who eats ice cream while watching Biggest Loser.
Korra, whose dad is a bishop who rides a huge motorcycle to work every day
Korra, whose dream is to be kissed in the rain
because of the feel of the rain, the smell of the rain, the sound of the rain, the magic of the rain
Korra, who runs up the stairs, heart racing, to beat the dark to the top
Korra, who's the English Sterling Scholar, and has no idea how the heck that happened
Korra, whose anxiety can sometimes be overwhelming
but
Korra, whose anxiety can often be remedied by a long hug

Korra, who recently went on a date with a football player (woot! Sheep no more!)
Korra, who will miss Cassius Clay, Katchican, Mountain Nomad, Tosh, Peepleizdum, Last of the Mohicans, Steven O Jordan, and James Nemo
and Korra who wouldn't mind going on a date with any or all of them

and Korra, freaking Korra, who doesn't care if she's addicted to art
because she's not leaving Paris
anytime soon.

Neither am I.