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Wrap it up.

I've reread my favorite book about 5 times in the last 3 days.
I just keep going back, getting lost in the page numbers. Hanging on the words. Pretending that it's me in the story.
I blame my funk on the simple fact that it's not.
It's not about me.
My psyche is based on fiction.
That's fucking depressing.

I've got to wake up.
Write my own story.
Make my own memories and stop getting caught up in words that aren't mine.
But it's so easy to go back, get stuck and never come back.

I miss you.

11:14 p.m. - 2012-05-22

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