I don't text you. You don't text me. And when you do text me, I hate you. I think about eating your babies. I think about slapping you with a frying pan. I think about the fact that you don't know me well enough to know that I regard text messages just as highly as I regard Germany. And I regard Germany about as highly as a removed strand of hair.
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I almost think I might kinda like that song.
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i believe i sent you a text last weekend
but never again, i promise
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