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where you can send the letter i wont even start with my contempts, malnourishments, bouts of anorexia. i can barely muster a fuck you. nihilism doesn’t even scratch the surface in this state of decay. so some famous fascist starts bitching about some “pop tarts who think they have a shot at becoming the next julia roberts” (paraphrase). well try making headway down the streets of secured families who have nothing better to do than become drunks. whose delusions are so final everything really is just f i n e. peachy perfect. contempt’s for people who are much more like you than you would ever care to acknowledge. or maybe it is exactly how much you understand their similarity to you that compels you to hate them. evenly with the hatred you have for yourself. here are no cute go-goers only things that never were, half developed ideas that went rotten while still on the vine.
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