It's times like these, when I sit (utterly useless and forlorn), moping and cripplingly self-conscious over some boy, that I thank God (yes, Jesus's God), for Margaret Atwood. God bless bloody Margaret and her man-hating feminist ways. I can read her and, though I won't feel a drop better, relate instantly to her pathetic, uncharismatic cast. Why,
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AT-ta (crisp). WOOOOOOOOOOOOOODDDDa.
anyway, oh do not despair. though i know nothing of the situation, i can maybe relate. i met someone too and feel i ruined a spectacular spectacular spectacular event. but we grind on! You and I. Grinding iron into needles!
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