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[29 Jun 2006|09:28am]
I've been having this nightmare for the past couple of nights: I spend a day with Dixy, or write a letter to Dixy, and everything is fine and awesome and cute and we buy notebooks or we break into people's houses or we wreck cars or whatever. And then I get letters in the mail totally dissecting something I said, like, "When you offered me a packet of ketchup, you were making fun of me, right?" Or something like that, and on and on, paragraphs, written, in neat little index cards of things I've said and her dissecting them.

So then I try to find her to explain myself; No, don't hate me, I didn't mean it that way, No, wait... But I can't find her. I can't find her anywhere. She's gone, she's gone, IDK to where.

I did a lot of pseudo-*meditating* yesterday. Or something. I walked to 7-eleven, and although I did't get a hot dog, I found that I felt strangely at *peace* with everything. Sort of. Except, of course, the cars. Some cars are just so *loud.* Sometimes, when a particularly loud motorcycle rumbles by (I'm sure there's a shortage of mufflers in the world, right?), I feel actual ANGER. I'm actually ANGRY at this inconsiderate person who could bear to be so incessesarily *loud.* I wasn't so angry until I learned that people intentionally remove their mufflers so that their motorcycles sound that way.

If you can't afford a muffler, then I mostly sympathize with you, except that maybe you shouldn't have purchased a motorcycle in the first place?

Eep://

Randaphobia
Randaphobia: The unreasoning fear of Objectivism, the philosophy of Ayn Rand. It is exhibited through visceral hostility toward all things appertaining to Ayn Rand, and to any individual who expresses agreement with any elements of Objectivism. Objectivists see Randaphobia as evidence of the power and relevance of Objectivism, because those affected by it would not devote so much passion and energy to reviling a weak or irrelevant philosophy; they would instead either ignore it, or calmly point out perceived errors and move on.

Symptoms of Randaphobia include but are not limited to the following:

*The belief that it is acceptable behavior to abandon all civility in discourse with any individual who agrees with elements of Objectivism.

*When discussing anything related to Objectivism, the substitution of sneering, insults, ridicule, dismissiveness, patronizing, sarcasm, and similar rhetorical devices for reasoned and civil discourse.

*An obsessive focus on biographical details or supposed personality defects of Ayn Rand, rather than the ideas developed by Ayn Rand.

*The belief that one can discuss or challenge the philosophy of Objectivism without ever having read Ayn Rand, in particular her major philosophical works (Atlas Shrugged), or having made any serious effort to understand them.

*The refusal to seriously engage the substance of Objectivist ideas, instead focusing on mischaracterizations and myths about those ideas.

*The ascribing of malevolent motives to those who agree with any elements of Objectivism.

*(In academics,) acting contrary to professed principles of promoting "tolerance," "critical thinking" and "openness to alternative viewpoints" by shutting down any discussion of Objectivism (in extreme cases even any mention of it), or inflicting the above behaviors on students.

Those affected by Randaphobia may exhibit some or all of these symptoms. Objectivists contend that most cases of Randaphobia occur in individuals who do actually think deeply about philosophical issues, but instead use philosophical terms to support preconceived notions about politics, society, economics, and culture. Its most virulent form is exhibited by academics who have the intellectual tools to seriously engage and address the issues raised by Objectivism, but choose instead to respond Objectivism with behaviors such as those listed above.


Treatment
There is no known cure for Randaphobia. In the long run, natural selection selects against those who exhibit it in their economic behavior, such as extreme forms of altruism, for example. However, in their economic lives many Randaphobics behave as if they agree intellectually with the principles of capitalism and ethical egoism. This suggests that hypocrisy may be an effective treatment for some of the potentially life-threatening effects of Randaphobia, allowing an individual to live a seemingly normal life. Practitioners question the quality of life of such individuals, however, given the extreme divide between their thoughts and actions.


Diagnosis
Randaphobia is indicated when the subject exhibits a proclivity to make assertions such as the following:

"I'm not afraid of Objectivism, I just think it's stupid."

"I'm not afraid of Objectivism, I just think its unnatural."

"I'm not afraid of Objectivism, I just think it's disgusting."

"I'm not afraid of Objectivism, I just think it's wrong."

It is usually not the case, for Randaphobic persons, that the basis of their attitudes towards Objectivism is rational reasoning, or intellectual argumentation. Therefore, one seldom if ever will see statements like these:

"I believe that premise 'X' of Objectivism is erroneous, because premise 'Y' is the correct one, based on the following observations about reality . . ."

"There is an error in the logic of Objectivism in argument 'A.' The next logical inference in this string is not 'B,' but 'C'."

Indeed, once an individual engages Objectivism to this extent, he may be on the road to recovery. Sadly, it is still not known what causes an individual exhibiting Randaphobia to engage Objectivism in a substantive manner such as this.

Readers are invited to add to the list of symptoms or otherwise modify this definition in Wikipedia fashion. Perhaps the definition will be added to Wikipedia at some point. The author has made some small effort to avoid the use of normative terms in this, but has little doubt that some value judgments were nevertheless imported.


*giggles* What fun..

....On another note.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/5129904.stm
Finally! But how long have those 460 inmates been in there, without charge, because they *might* be tied to Taliban or Al Qaeda. How long before somebody noticed, "Hey this might not be legal, much less humane..."
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Finally Finally, and By-the-by [01 Feb 2006|12:21pm]
I was in the girls' bathroom this morning trying to make mys cary face a little less scarier, when I heard sobbing, vicious, vicious, painful sobbing.

I decided to leave whoever it was alone - because I was once a girl who hid in bathrooms before school. Not so long ago, and not so recently, but I remember it.

I had to pause momentarily because one of the girls monitoring Dome II has just whispered to me, "Sweety, pull up your pants in the back and pull down your shirt."

I thought it was funny.

So, for most of this day, I have been thinking about Tony and Jon. I have been sad and regretful, but not too sad. I can't shake myself from the thought that one day it will all blow over, just as I hoped that the Aaron thing would one day all blow over.

It's killing me to eat lunch with them everyday, he can be such an ass. But when I consider the alternatives - a nomadic existance, nomadic, nomadic, nomadic.

Dixy and I were at a GoodWill the other day and I saw what was probably one of the first cordless phones. It was called, "The Nomad 5600."


I feel like a nomad.

Give me a home.
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[01 Feb 2006|08:11am]
I put on a scary mask today.


\















BOO!
1 comment|post comment

002 [02 Jan 2006|05:49pm]
I am increasingly stupid and increasingly bitter.
2 comments|post comment

[29 Dec 2005|12:53am]
[ mood | Englightened ]

I had a dream a night or two ago. I was in something of a military establishment, and Angel and I were in love. I remember having a memory of Eamon, but thinking - no, knowing - that somehow my small affair with Angel wouldn't matter. Maybe, who k nows, in another world, or another dimension - I really did have an affair with Angel, and that 'memory' was my memory of life as it really is.

Even then, I had the feeling that what Angel and I had wasn't permanent. Every one of our secret meetings had a sense of - a sense of urgency - a feeling that I only actually saw in Angel's eyes once. I'm not in love with Angel, and I'm truly happy that he's found somebody in Melonie. I truly think he's found something of a perfect love. But - there was something - somethign that I think is imaginary - in that dream that my soul suddenly hungers for. Not that urgency, but... something else...

You see, I've come upon a theory, and I hope that later tonight when Eamon comes, and we look into each other's eyes, that I'll realize that my thilly theory was wrong. I think that there are two kinds of loves in your life. You either come upon a person, and fall in love, and devote yourself to them completely, and your thoughts are always, always, always of them, or... you meet someone, and you fall in love, and you devote yourself to them... but a piece of you stays away. A piece of you you keep to yourself forever, and the person you're with will never, ever touch it. Maybe that's the way to go. But, in every relationship, you're one or the other: the one with eyes closed, with limitless, unconditional devotion, or you the one with eyes wide open.

I wonder today, yesterday, tomorrow, everyday... whether Jeff Buckley ever fell in love. I feel almost cheap saying this, because I feel as if it's been said before, but when I hear some kind of music, it fills me, and my chest swells, and I feel closer to a higher plane. I feel as if that kind of music belongs into another world, and in find that music we get closer to that world. It's happened to me in Guitar class, I can't remember with which songs. Maybe Sarabande, or that Spanish one that Victor (a virtuoso of ours) played. Sometimes even my simple little Spanish Etuden. It's happened when Eamon plays me "Gypsy Rover," although he's not really playing it for me, just playing it... and it happens in church, when I listen to Mr. Donahue's allelujah, which is different from any other on this earth.

I also feel it, some days, when Eamon and I are particularly still, and I look into those eyes.... Girls, you may have girls with blue eyes, with green, with golden, but no eyes match my darling's.... They're brown, but at the bottom, there's this little pool of gold. In the little pool of gold, there's specks of black at the edges, but at the very bottom it's just pure gold. Near the top, the color is a clear brown. If you don't know what I mean, picture looking in a deep lake late at night... and there, the little specks are gold, and orange... my fingers are getting weak just to think of it. Anyway, when we're lying particularly still, and I look into those eyes, and I'm touching just a little part of him... his cheek.... his shoulder... or ankle.. I feel as... as if I'm not only touching, reaching that other world - but as if, for a fleeting second, I'm a part of it.

It is in those moments that I hope that Eamon and I are an exception to every rule. We're not.

Because... oh, I'm so flawed. I'm young, only 16, but even now I've resolved myself to a horrible (at least to me) truth: Nobody will ever love me with that enveloping completeness with which I love Eamon. And, if they do... I won't love them the same way. As I said before, it's one or the other, it's ying or it's yang. You can't eat your cake and have it too.

I heard there was a secret chord... that David played and it pleased the Lord... but you don't really care for music, do you?

...in a lifetime, you could tally up your losses aginst your gains, and sometimes you might find that you've got a negative amount of gains. But trust me, whatever the number is, you've done the math wrong. You've done the math wrong.

Praise Life, Praise God

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Boys, Men, and me, Somewhere in Between [19 Aug 2005|08:56pm]

Ok, so you wanna know how I feel? Honestly? like shit. So you're gonna "call around" fity people to see if somebody wants to do something, and I'm your fucking last resort? Analyze your actions; that's not right. I don't want to fucking be the last resort. It's clear and obvious I'm taken for granted, becuase I'm always here, always here, always here.

It's especially horrible that you've...you've...you've promised you wouldn't do it. I've kept my promises, but it doesn't mean anything.

Wednesday night, I asked Dixy to go to Album park, then she picked up Dani and we went to Keva Juice. It's incredibly expensive juice that isn't really that good. While we were leaving the Keva Juice en route for Album Park, I realized something. I realized why I loved being with Nathan so much.

It was becuase he wanted to possess me. I know to you feminists, it sounds fucked-up and what-not, but if you've ever been with a guy like Nathan, you'd know what I meant. Nathan, or Nathaniel, as he liked to be called (because he was a goffick and it made him feel like he was born in the 17th century), believed that he was better than everybody else, he actually kind of felt like he was a God. I didn't believe it with him, though, so don't jump up my back.

In any case, Nathan... wanted me. He even thought I was attractive (in the beginning, but then again, I look great in black). I don't mean sexually, and in fact I do believe he's an odd little person that is almost completely devoid of any sexual desire what-so-ever. I must admit, I had no physical attraction - at least not the traditional kind - towards him either. Most of the time. It's not hard to figure out: Nathan believes that he's better than everybody else; he believes that his girl is better than everybody else. I'll admit that I did my fair share of manipulation to that poor little boy, more so than he'll ever let himself understand, but all the same, the manipulations weren't lies - I was a liar, I was just misleading and deceitfull. Our relationship was perfect in that way, as he believed that he was the only deceitful one and I was an innocent, ignorant little girl (ok, so I was, but not in the way he envisioned.)

I've digressed - the point is, he thought he was the king of the world, and he deserved all of the world. To him, I was that 'all' of the world. I think even his new girlfriend, Kim, does not have the same sort of spot in his heart... Not only did he feel, apparently, that I was the best girl, but he also believed that I was somewhat his equal while he also disdained me. You see, his constant attempts to be superior to me was all the more flattering, because he thought I was worthy of succeeding. You've gotta respect the king you're overthrowing just a little if you're going to usurp his throne.

...he'd tell other girls that I was perfect. It's quite something to be called perfect. I know he was manipulating them into corrosive bouts of low self-esteem, but I also know that he beleived what he said. He believed what he said, if only for a short while. While I was abrassive. While I was strong and insulting and manipulative and deceitful, but still treated him better than anybody else he'd ever known.

He wrote this about me - "I'm in a pretty "peachy" point in my 'life', so you won't hear me complain too much. Hmm, I guess I should say a little about me since I zipped through the profile thing and left everyone in the dark. I am Thor! Really it's Nathan, but call me Vash. I'm currently engaged to a beutiful, intelligent, wonderful, etc. young devotchka who, to say the least, stole my heart."

July 2nd, 2004.

A despicable, childish, mumbling idiot, who threatened to kill me - who knows how many times? He was a piece of shit sort of guy, and I was a piece of shit sort of girl... maybe I've resorted back to it,

...[I was relieved to know he didn't cheat on me.]

We weren't unimportant to each other. A month later, I started dating Eamon, and two months later, he started dating Kim, and we're both still with them...

...what does this mean?

Nothing, nothing, nothing.

....got some heavy thinking to do. I've said this, but, I keep thinking in circles. They say that girls think circularly while men think empirically. I always disagreed, and I still disagree, I'm just... stuck.

Sort of.

All I wanted tonight, seriously, was somebody to take me out and show me a good time. I hate being the fucking last resort. I guess I was reminded about the little pi9ece of enlightenment I had about Nathan on wednesday because I was always his #1 priority, no matter what. His primary action project.



I've done a little run-around. I thought next came Eamon, but let's remember that next came Aaron. Yes, he liked me, yes I think he did. No, he will never consciously admit it because I am the foulest creature on the earth....right?

You did. And I liked you, too. But it's all about timing. I asked you out, you didn't understand. Or maybe you were scared. And you tried - only I misunderstood you and went the other way. Don't you think things worked out better this way? You and I would have never lasted. You hate me, you would always have come to the eventuality of hating me. And I'm not pretty enough for you. So please get over it and love me...again?

....then Eamon...

....but it doesn't stop with him... as it should've.

First of all, there was the bet with Nathan. Get Stacey. Get her what? Enamored? Intoxicated? Convinced? We never defined it, but we udnerstood. Deadline: May. I had him beat in the first week. Why? Because he told her he loved her.

Second of all, Rafael Angel Gonzalez. Beautiful little soul. Had to fall in love with me, too? All the worse for him. But much worse for me.

Matt... at 27, my oldest conquest. And near the youngest... and by far the shortest...thing. Called me headstrong...

The boys and men mentioned here tonight (you figure out for yourselves who is who...)

saint_vash
shotgun_boogie
shattersoul
cwohooligan.

Oh, you want me to mention David?

Really, David?

The dead one?

Well, he's dead.

Get over it.

**EDIT
It may seem like I cheated on Eamon, but I never asked those boys to say they'd fallen in love with me. They came up with that bs all on their own.
14 comments|post comment

[16 Aug 2005|08:53pm]
psychoanalyze me...

just

just

just

"ok got homework
k
bye"

or

"sorry church thing"

whatever, DIE

all your friends are

MY friends...

but I don't have any,.,.,.

suddenly feel like I'm NOTHING.

not anybody's

"coolest girl they've ever met"

fuck you

fuck you

fuck you some more

escape,...

still something

in somebody's eyes

but YOU, who should be there,

didn't try hard enough.
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I love Eamon. [11 Aug 2005|12:12am]
[ mood | geeky ]


Eamon got me the orange daisy.
this. is. true. love.
3 comments|post comment

002 [09 Aug 2005|04:37pm]
Today was my second day of school but my first day of US History. I really like Mr. Morales, although he seems to be both fascinated and terrified of children. Whenever he spoke, he wouldn't look at us students and he'd stutter and he'd lose his place. It was quite entertaining, though.

La. I like him better than my English teacher, in any case. Which is a pity; I so hate it when I dislike my english teachers. Blah.

Guitar 2 looks like it's going to be something of a challenging class. What is going to make it even more challenging (for me at least) is that there's going to be almost forty people in class this year. Hopefully, they all suck and they'll be gone at the end of the term, leaving me one full term all by myself. Heh. I was literaly falilng asleep during guitar again, and getting lost in the schoolwork. I wanted to just lay my head on my guitar and sleep for hours. But that didn't happen, and instead I went to lunch.

Blergh. Pre-Cal was kind of nice, we did some work. Sometime before 2000, apparently, the orbit around earth filled with 9.5 million pounds of debris. We figured out how many of our textbooks would weigh 4000 pounds, and other stuff. It was childish, but entertained the mind a bit all the same. The second problem was how many textbooks 10 inches X 8 inches X 2 inches in dimension would fit in a room with dimensions of 20 feet X 30 feet X 10 feet. Manny's group, which included Franklin and David Garcia, calculated that the number of books would be 450. When we challenged the answer, with the answer 64,800, Manny, the big idiot, asshole, cocksucker, said, "Haw, Haw, they probably converted twice." It irked me how they could be so disdainful with the wrong answer.

I, of course, got it right, but just in case I wasn't - I kept my mouth shut.

Biology was also good, because we were working all period long. This is precisely what I liked about Chemistry with Mr. Romero, which I miss intensely: that not a minute was wasted. Our teacher seems to think that we are children, however. You can see it in the way she speaks and her "fill in the blank" notes are childish, overly simple, and time-consuming. I hope I'm not disappointed in this class and that it's really a fast-paced, challenging course.

I think I'm going to try to take both Chem II and Physics. It's too bad I probably won't have time for Physics II, unless they let me take three science courses in one year. Bitches as counselors are at Hanks, I doubt this.

Oh, you'd like to know what my homework is?

English 3 PAP
Chapter 1 "Intro", "Guidelines for Reading"

US History AP
Essay, "Asses the motives/factors/reasons for moving to the New World."

Guitar 2
Nothing, really, but hopefully I'll have some sort of guitar.

Pre-Cal
Should I finish the worksheet?

Biology
Chapters 1 and 2, finish water worksheet and post-test.
5 comments|post comment

You... [01 Aug 2005|03:54pm]
You were such a dork.

I remember the first time I saw you, it was October 31st, 2003. Every little goffic girl's dream. We didn't exactly "meet," though, seeing as I didn't see you again for almost a year. The next time I saw you was sometime in July - at Warped tour. But you disappeared. I still remember you, though. Wearing a wife-beater. The height of fashion.

The real deal, though, was in July of '04. I remember you walking up my driveway. Blue pants, polo shirt. But what I remember the most - your sideburns. And your hair was a lot longer than I thought skinheads would wear. You never wear it that long anymore.

You and Aaron stole me away to Denny's, where we stayed until four in the morning. I...was enchanted by your face.

You were such a dork. Both of you boys were eating out of my hand that summer. Ninja Scroll, Suicidie Club, Fight Club, how many more movies? Endless... the focus stopped being about the movies, and it started being about the feeling of your hair under my hand.

Yeah, you called. Got my cell-phone number from my livejournal. Invited me to go to the bank. Then we played Turok. They're in my head, relics, so vivid. Untouchable. Unforgettable.

It's been a great year - here's to many more.

I love you, Eamon.


Praise Life, Praise God
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[25 Jul 2005|01:56am]
It's been a semi-long weekend. Work was odd, and I bought an enormous case of beer. Should last me about a week, hopefully until the end of the summer. To tell you the truth, I definitely made a mistake becuase I can't bring myself to drink it and it doesn't taste that good.

Anyway - other things haven't tasted good as well, but these days something that has not tasted good and also proved problematic was my tongue. I say sarcastic remarks, or veiled remarks, that are by no means veiled enough. So I find myself not only having said something disgusting and vile, but also having said it in an even more disgusting way. I do this mostly to E_moan, but I also do it to many other people. I've recently said some remarks to a certain person about their past that I shouldn't have, and what surprised me most is that I didn't even know I had that in me. On one of these occasions, I was quite deppressed for hours both for the fact that I had hurt the person so much and because I didn't believe myself the kind of person to have done that, and intentionally.

Really, my emotional state has been disastrous among most people very often, I believe this is because I've been away from constant human contact from so long. BEcause of this, I can't help myself from saying exactly what I mean, doing exactly what is necessary, and being because of this nothing but a tool... if you know what I mean. Like an empty robot mindlessly - or almost too mindfully carrying out commands. The few times when I try to - be free and clear, I find myself regressing far too back.

I think that in a way, because my childhood was so forcefully wrenched from me, that it has lingered in grotesque form, following me far, emerging when I am deeply scarred or insulted, when the core of me is hit too strongly with a blow that should never have been intended for me. The result is disastrous, and I cower in fear in a closet or a dark unseen corner for hours or until somebody comes to find me. After the apologies have been delivered, I find myself aware of my regressive state but unable to bring myself back...

I find it safe to say this, because not may people read this thing anymore, and those of you who, I believe, will not fully understand its contents.

Nor will you understand the full damage that you have done me. But I know it well enough, and I also know it very well that although the injustice was yours - your vile act - it was my responsibility to have protected myself more, and, as selfish and cold as it might sound, to care about you less.

I'm very happy that there are a few people who I'm never going to have to do this for. First of all, I'm quite sure that I will never have to be sorry for displaying too much affection or having too much fondness for my mother. My scattered, confusing family (my brother, my mother, and I) is such that - we're so tightly knit, a partin gof ways is never possible. Also, I know I don't have to worry about darling E_moan, and a few of you know why. I'm also finding out how beautiful a person E_moan's friend Jon-face is, although...well...

All in all, my life could not be more complete, in my opinion. Although there are very few people I feel confident even in - liking -, they are the sort of people that I know I shall never regret it.

Now, I've got some beer, and there's too much of it, and I suddenly don't feel like drinking, so if one's of ya wants to come and keep me company and have one or two, I would not turn you away.

[Oh, and btw, I've got great movies.]


Praise Life, Praise God.
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Half Blood [22 Jul 2005|06:45pm]
Eamon and I went to see the Island. It was beautifully shot, with a few cheap moments, and Scarlet Johannssen was beautiful. There were a bit too many explosions and stuff, though. Eh. Don't want to talk about it.

Blah. Got Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.

And Eamon's knife.

If any of you spoil the ending for me, I shall use one of the two and shank you.

If you have ever tried to shank anyone with abook 620 pages long, then you'll know which one of the two I'll choose. To shank you.
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SUCH a retard [21 Jul 2005|11:24pm]
[ mood | bouncy ]

I realized that when I hear something funny, I clap my hands twice and guffaw.
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Daddy Wasn't There/To Take Me To The Fair [21 Jul 2005|08:09pm]


Ungh. I don't feel like talking about the horrible, horrible, horrible argument my father and I just had. I've spoken about it to many, and the answer's always the same - "Your father's an asshole." Yes, but he's also a kind, giving, generous man. Sort of.

In any case, he's not my father. He's my father. He's not my father.


Yeah.


Less than three, Dixy, for calming me down and making me laugh when I was pissed off. Ask Eamon, it's hard to do. Also less than three to my brother - we standoffishly giggled about how people have horrible grammar. Yeth.

*gasps* So, Matt's back. Only he's -not- back. Gothness knows that he's not talking to me right now.

Anyway. Ivy happy. Ivy - going to finish HP 5 and beg Eamon to buy HP 6.
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[19 Jul 2005|08:34pm]
There were 3 votes for short, 2 votes for long...

So short wins!

2 comments|post comment

QUESTION - [15 Jul 2005|09:15pm]
Should I grow my hair out -

Image hosted by Photobucket.com

Or - keep it short?

Image hosted by Photobucket.com
8 comments|post comment

Cell Phone [04 Jul 2005|05:58pm]
I finally got a new cell phone!

Number is - 915-637-3439
1 comment|post comment

Going Friends Only [02 May 2005|11:08pm]
Friends Only

This entry will probably be edited later.

And I hope I've made you happy, my dearest one
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