Anxiety sucks. Deadlines are a mixed blessing. Some boxes I'd prefer to remain closed - and far, far away from me, for that matter. I would like to stop being made of fail. I wish my favourite black boots were still wearable. I wish I had bootstraps - whatever the fuck those are actually supposed to be. There's never a wrong time for cheese unless
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I think we stole your rain here in Boston. You can have it back whenever you like.
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