The fact i've written a while book makes me feel a but at ease with what is going on still, but in all effort. I feel a failure when it comes to making the other side make sense. Two books are supposed to cross select the events at the beginning. I feel pressed into a story that just pushes all the stress back in like it wasn't even the reason for the book. I blame myself for including foreign source material. I pulled a long dead string of dead aristocrat to fulfill a side plot, and unable to separate them I tried to cross the books together, but ended up pudding to much. More kidnapping?
I found so much wrong in context, and wording. I wondered if Susan Collins had written that part. I wish I could blame Booze, but there is none since the beginning of the year. No progress either.
The book keeps me from deciding to leave, and maybe I will make it tillI leave for the grand canyon.
4am and she's up again. These kids are messed up chemically. The book portrays them less screwed up.
I fear none of my anything makes any of their lives better. And the depression tries to swallow me again.
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