The obnoxious sound of bereavement coming from a long-lost lover is really starting to annoy me. Unfortunately, I have no other choice but to read this melancholic cry for a purpose and meaning for his life because goddamn live journal presents his latest posts to me on my “friends” page. Furthering my adversity, I’m too fucking computer-illiterate
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Viola, you're done.
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So what drives your life hotstuff? Indeed, my tonic feeds the fire, but men have nothing to do with it.
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