Explosions in the Sky is the undiscovered therapeutic device of the year.
Regardless.
Fucker still won't talk to me.
If the reason is something as serious as what I suspect, the use of the term "fucker" will immediately be dropped.
But until then, I think I have the right to be just a tad bit angry.
*throws a pillow at the wall*
Will I lose my dignity?
Little late for that.
Fucker.
In about thirty minutes, I will feel terrible for what I just said. I will realize that no matter what I say, I can't lose you. I will sit back, look at the ceiling, and heave a heavy sigh. I will make myself a cup of tea and try to distract my frantic mind with pointless information which has no connection to the real world save that which I make through you.
I have hope.
Can you really blame me?
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