BARE MY TEETH.
GET RID OF THIS SOUND.
SUCCEED.
AND BE SO FUCKING HAPPY.
AND YOU'RE GOING TO COME BACK.
AND I'LL HAVE EVERYTHING I'LL EVER NEED.
I need patience.
God. I need patience.
Maybe I'll just count every time I lose it.
That's a good idea.
there's nothing artistic about this blogging anymore. its only insight. its only therapy. i'm not gonna ask for help, because i'm proud. and scared.
so very very scared.
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