Nov 06, 2004 18:28
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Rosie and I broke up. Once upon a time, I was magic, an angel who could make her happy with just a word, a kiss, or some ice cream. Now I can't do anything right, and I'm left with the often torturous memories of the days when I could. Shall I give the months, the days, the hours, the minutes? Shall I be every teenage angst cliche? No. Just: I hurt. Bad. We tried everything we could. I must now refrain from watching any movies featuring Jimmy Stewart or involving heroic, quixotic, or romantic plotlines and from listening to music, period. Then maybe I'll understand. )
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