So I did write all six days, but on reflection they read as ridiculous and juvenile and terrifically self-indulgent so I locked them all away. I had to write it all down, and I did get a great deal of cathartic release from the project-- but that doesn't mean it was very good. Especially on Sunday-- Bloomsday, coincidentally-- where I had to
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You are currently the sole member of the "six day record" custom friends group. Its certainly not Joyce; I ended up veering all over the map, stylistically. There are bits I liked, but they were outnumbered by sappiness.
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I just didn't need her to see it. I mean, I wanted her to, but events today have moved the dial in re: her to "Officially Bonkers; set opinion to Go Fuck Yourself."
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I enjoyed the pieces. It never seemed indulgent. I liked them.
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You have the dubious honor of membership in the exclusive content viewership club.
I'm so sorry.
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I do empathize with the unhealed wound experience of a past relationship. Relationships in so many ways are like wars - first you're on the same side, then you aren't. It's agonizing.
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It's really the not understanding what happened part that still makes me crazy. I'm told that there are things that happen in life that will never be 'closed', and I supposed I'm gradually accepting that. But it's infuriating that she's so close by, and could make things better by just talking to me, but I'm not worth the time.
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