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That makes three.

We will always end up here, at this place, at this time. You all do. Every crash and burn will be documented, and I will lovingly sift through this - so much disregarded paper. Compartmentalize each piece to be sorted later, or not processed at all.

I didn't ever have what-ifs before we never met, and I hate that about you. I keep pushing it, a bruise that I've had, all these years. And it pains me, the bruise and the years. Now that there's this life, this other person, I am not allowed to question my choices. How could I when he is. Is, in his small, frustrated little man glory?

Why can't I? Who made these rules and laws to govern human emotions?

I suppose I will eventually say, "oh, well". You will all hate me in the end and I will be as I ever was. Me and the rain.

1:46 p.m. - 2012-12-25

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