I’m not depressed. I guard the couch. Willow, my nemesis, defies my authority every chance she can get. She rubs against the coffee table leg, my leg, and then the couch and reaches her little paws up and scratches away at the couch arm like I’m not even sitting beside her. She does it as often as she can. I yell, I swipe her paws away from the
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Second paragraph "I have created a little island of depression..."
third paragraph "I'm not depressed"
denial ain't just a couch shaped island in a second paragraph
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Are you the creeper I met @ Laura yesterday? I mean "creeper" in the most flattering way, by the way.
Ciao,
Jen
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