whyd does my mom have to hate me so damn much. wasnt putting out her cigarretes on the insides of my thighs enough, no she had to use my favorite dashboard shirt to clean up the red wine she spilt on one of her boyfriends last night. i just stared at the red stain over the heart of my shirt and i saw my own spilt emotions, my own heartache and
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and please, tell your mother "thanks for the rusty trombone", my ass has never felt better.
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by the way, you got a whole lot of crap in your life, and i am really sorry about it all, from what i read, you said pretty depressed, so, feel free to talk to me, i don't even know who you are, but i will talk
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shut up kill yourself you must have no life if you want to consel a complete stranger(no matter how cute her writings are)from online
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