I am so tired. I hate working. It really feels like I was the old lady at work tonight. The kind that can only talk in a loud whisper and explains things in a hearts-and-flowers sort of way
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Paul's hella crazy. He calls me like a crazy man at 5:00 in the morning, being cute about his evening. Paul comes over a lot and I like it. Paul's sitting on my couch. Paul writes me hella nice notes and leaves them on my car. Paul has sloppier handwriting than I do. Paul's watching Star Trek. Paul has road rage, just like me. Paul is a racist.
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So many words, yet so few lip movements seem to fit the thoughts that are specifically in my mind. Work, work, school, sleep, work, school, overdraft. So maybe everything is all for nothing
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