An eight letter death sentence, a poison arrow through my heart. No matter how many steps I take forward, I find myself right back at the start. I am sick of insensitivity, tired of lies, and built up expectations; jaded, trampled upon, and left all but alone. The more I think about it, the more I hate my life and what it's become. The harder I
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I love you. Call me if needed 241-6794.
Candice<3
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I WILL call you, as we really need to do something soon. I propose a trade: your Death From Above shirt, chains, and aviators for my magical music making device.
Seems fair enough to me.
I love you too, Candice... and I'll definitely give you a ring on one of my next days off.
In the meantime, I shall become my job, and act like I have a choice not to -_^.
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