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. . . . . entries for 13.8.10 . . . . .
There's a poem we read, or someone read, in 8th grade English class, that made its way to all of us somehow. I can't find it online, but one line from it is knocking around in my head, in a not especially surprising or unfamiliar way. It's just it didn't, for all those weeks. And it doesn't when I'm not here, most times.
I'm tired now, like dead already.
[] . . . ees @ 1:09:00 PM
come home?
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