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Thursday, May. 05, 2005
7:46 p.m.
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Jot it Down ] >>

Scribbles, dark spirals from prime meridians of pieces of paper. Hand gestures and secrecy, group mentality and exclusion, the destruction of weakness within the pattern.

My tongue is metallic and you, I can feel your pulse throbbing in my throat. I did all of this to get away from you and here you are, omniscient as ever.

The colors that run away as your eyes adjust to light, the numb feeling right before drunk, the lies I insist upon telling myself, that's what the world is reduced to these days.

Don't worry, I'm not angry. I just hate you.

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