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Jul 30, 2010 13:39

i sometimes think that i tell everyone a different version of my story so if anyone ever tried to put together the pieces no one will really have a complete idea.

there goes that storybook imagination of mine again:
"they all look up from their puzzle realizing none of the pieces fit together and smile at the idea of the girl that was a mystery; fade to black, roll credits"

i am only as good as the things i have absorbed lead me to be.

i have lost four best friends in the past year. two to irreconcilable differences, two to geography.
i am hemorrhaging intimacy.
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