wouldn't it be nice if I could read your mind?
My hands are so cold
Sometimes I feel like you're some kind of giving tree. Like the Shel Silverstein book. Like I'm the selfish little child who keeps taking things, vital things, from you. It is a depressing thought.
I am sleep-deprived. Shut up.
A romantic subplot is developing for Miss Apathy. Not that anyone who reads this knows who she is, but whatever.
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