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When men fuck me over
This journal seems to be the place I go when men fuck me over.

Yeah, I'm not in Oregon. And I guess it's unfair to say it was entirely his fault -- I have my faults as well in this situation. But I think the blame leans in his direction.

There's no poetry in my life right now. It's all just cold calling, reading history books, sleeping, going to class. My bedroom is far too small for everything I own. I've been counting down the days to when I graduate with a worthless degree.

Pretty Little Liars has more or less kept me from killing myself, if only because the girls are entirely too blas� about the entire situation. I want one of them to have the same kind of breakdown I've had over lesser stress. Is that how normal people react to murder threats? If so, my life should be a cakewalk.

I might begin writing here again. Still dreaming of gardens and puppies and Junip playing constantly in the background.

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2013-09-08 @ 2:10 p.m.