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... and sing after me.

Too much affection toward me bothers me, but I don't care about your preference. I'm tired of being the pursuer, but I never give you the chance. I think I would enjoy that if I gave it a fucking minute to happen. I'm so impatient.
The growing things lifted their heads today, twice. The freeway on ramp to 80 from Watt is like the bat cave exit, and I will try to get to 70 before I have to merge, provided there is something good playing and I am not hindered by another car, its own hell.
I don't like too much affection, but I could use yours.
Shawn grabbed me around the top if my rib cage to move me, and I felt small. That's the desire for big hands.
"Well, what's 37?"
"Three years closer to 40."
"Thanks, Jacob. You fuck."
I'm glad I met Jacob. He listens to all of my drama and melancholy, morose, bullshit and then tells me something more fucked up. It's funny how people come into your life when you need them. I wish I had one really good female friend. I miss Lizzy and Leslie. They're too busy to play my 23 year old games.
It's all musing, honey. But I mean all of it.

7:45 p.m. - 2013-02-01


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