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i can yell all i want.

i finally packed all of his pictures up.
not because i'm ready to move on, but because written on the back of one of them, in his handwriting, says "there's that good looking guy again, standing next to the bus."
and every time i read it, i fall apart.

it's been six weeks. why am i not any closer to coming to terms with this?

fuck. blah. fuck.

6:01 p.m. - 2008-10-07

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