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Oh my. Oh my. Oh my. Oh my. There's still nothing.
On Monday, Oct. 03, 2005 at 8:48 p.m.

I'm still pretending there's a reason to pretend to care. It think that's what I was pretending. I don't even know. I don't even care.

I wish I could stay in bed. Fuse to my bed for weeks on end, with my two blankets and white sheets and pajama bottoms

and I'd think about the world, and religion and my novel and certain people and every so often I'd take a break to write and make calls.

and I just don't understand WHY we can't live perfect lives like in the magazines.

Well. Like my dreams. Pardon the rhyme.



hold me close like we both died
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