So today I got an envelope in the mail addressed from my former shrink's office. I said out loud, oh great it's probably a bill. I was angry at her because I hadn't had a chance to see her before we left Dallas and I was out of my Zoloft prescription and she refused to call in a refill for me since she hadn't seen me in 10 months. She faxed me
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It's weird, last night I got to talking with my mom about all of my previous car accidents. Ten of them to be exact and I walked away from every one of them. How is it that I have survived so many of which could have killed me and yet I'm still here to talk about it while others are not. I just don't get it.
Um, anyways. Happy New Year!
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