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All in all, I probably remember a cummulative hour or two of last night. I love my friends. Dance. Sing. Jump. Walk. Run. Skip. Fall. Roll. Bruises, bruises, bruises from God knows what. I don't care if she called you. I don't care if she's okay with you now. I still don't forgive you. I still want to hate you. What's sad is that I can't. Talk,
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and my arms are always open to make you feel comfortable and safe
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