Monday, August 9, 2010

fuck this

I know I keep babbling on about a new slate. I know I know I know I know.

I know that you're hurt. You're also a man. You've got balls, surely. Use them, and grow the fuck up.

Forget about me, forget about us, forget about everything. Why would the penniless journalist have anything to do with the rich dentist? It escapes me.

Once upon a time, I liked you.

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