On how I am a bad daughter. Or, Mother's day blues
Why is it that I only remember that I'm not complete untalented in every conceivable way when it is too late for me to demonstrate this?
( this actually isn't really depressing, or even particularly sad, though I realize that both the title, and the first sentence do tend to indicate that it might be )
( this actually isn't really depressing, or even particularly sad, though I realize that both the title, and the first sentence do tend to indicate that it might be )
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