burden It's going to be two months early on Friday morning. Two months and I'm as empty as I was. She's happy, I think. She's with some born-again preppy wanker. Typical. He's hot off the conveyor belt. She told me that I was the best person for her.

She told me that.

Her hand felt so nice in mine. It felt right. It was right. But clearly we look at words and love and ecstasy differently. They matter to me. I don't think they matter to her. I didn't think anybody could hurt me like this. I don't think the pain was worth the pleasure. March on, you destroyer. Step on whomever you choose. Live your silly little life without regrets. Make money. Be safe in your destined home of sterilized glass and steel, kissing the cloud tops. Don't look back, though. It might kill you.

Thank you, Katie Brelsford. Thank you.
burden man, I used to be a little asshole. 040127
what's it to you?
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