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Micah and I are eating fruit. He went under the bed, I guess he doesn't want anymore. For twelve hours, I slept on and off, until three in the morning when I finally forced myself to go home. Everything disappeared and conciousness was handed off into dream world. Exact clips from The Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind replayed in my head, cutting in and out from what I remember, and being interrupted by absorbing my surroundings. I'm tired. Listen. Wake up. Look. [A sleepy blur.] I still have a Korn song in my head from Monday, I think it's from Issues. My Korn CDs are fucked, but they play for the most part. Deftones' "Damien" does not play however, one of my favorite songs. If I hear one more thing about pot, I might kill someone. But you won't know if I will, will you? Regardless, shut the fuck up.
Perfect.
Joelie, do you think I'm pretty? Mhm. I can't believe I'm crying already. When I was a kid, I thought I was ugly. I had all these dolls, but my favorite was this one I called Clementine. And I would yell at her, 'You can't be ugly! Be pretty!' You're pretty. Pretty, pretty, pretty.. Joelie, don't ever leave me... Merswiak, please, please let me keep this one, just this one. Please. Beautiful. Main Entry: quix·ot·ic Pronunciation: kwik-'sä-tik Function: adjective Etymology: Don Quixote Date: 1815 1 : foolishly impractical especially in the pursuit of ideals; especially : marked by rash lofty romantic ideas or extravagantly chivalrous action 2 : CAPRICIOUS, UNPREDICTABLE
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