Jul 18, 2010 13:42
Oh seattle. I'm trying to leave, but you're not making it easy for me. We laughed, we cried, we felt embarrassed for each other. I fucked your boyfriend, and stole forty cents from your dresser, and never apologized(or even felt sorry). I wondered, incessantly, am I your mistress or am I your main squeeze? Does. It. Matter? I'm still wondering.
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