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Mind. Even.

It's raining.

I can't make the words fit any more. Everything I've got going on is misdirected.

The apartment is dark, 3:30pm?

All this time laying in front of me, blank. I'm covering some blank spots, closing some windows. Boxes cover the dining room table. Empty pack of cigarettes on the arm of the couch. The garbage needs to be taken out, has for days. My fish is dead, and I haven't given her a proper burial in the bathroom.

Can we summon the energy to continue with this?

3:19 p.m. - 2005-12-30

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