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772.

I sat and thought, Wow. Haven't cried in a few weeks. And, it rolled. Rolled right into my inbox. Not a surprise. At least he saves the drama for a Friday night, when I can safely stay awake to nurse it into grief.

Carie, these are the last words you will ever hear from me: "you have the best lips/eyes combo in the world."

That's it really. No more. No less. He's blocked my email address by now. Deleted me from all of his messenger programs. It's only been arguments since he left. I've only been neglectful, and hurtful, and self absorbed. I've not been supportive. Loving. Caring. I can't say I've helped.

But, only some people catch that the cold and early morning hours make the alone a being. Alone. I forgot the fog rolls in, into my inbox, and makes lame cliches and metaphors for life.

A million monkeys at keyboards for a million years couldn't put into words what I'd like to write tonight.

I'm sorry again. I am constantly sorry for never being the things that people look for from me. I am constantly sorry that I'm never worth the trip, never worth the investment, never worth.

10:35 p.m. - 2003-11-07

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