So Natalie is in a bit of a predicament. Maybe it's the Vicodin mind-fucking me. Maybe it's the overbearing stress that I have from looking around my room and seeing all of the shit that I still have left to do. OR, maybe, JUST MAYBE, it's the fact that I haven't heard a WORD from my boyfriend since I had my surgery
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P.S. I fucking miss you both a lot. I mean it. Thank you for responding. :o)
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