Im sick to death of this fishbowl life. its all stale and dead, the weather's rotten, and the perpetual heat only serves to speed up the decaying processes which curse this city, this town, this state, with everything it has. i've got to get out for a while, i have to do something about all of this garbage, it's all starting to wear too thin, and
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"It," as in everything.
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the end.
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