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six foot seven foot red fish blue fish

over ten days no drinks. 43 pages of story/letter written. 9 days no addy. almost a week no marijuana.
what do we do? we eat eat eat. write and run and eat and run and run and pushups!!!
what do we do? we work work work. 2 until 11 all weekend and we squeeeeeeze the lobster salad. squeeeeeeze out all the anxiety and pressure! that has built up over the weeks and months and squeeeeeze for dear life because, honey, this ride got a little too tumultuous and i would cryyyyy but i dont want to this time. i watched the time travellor's wife and i thought of you. i wrote you a letter, but you are not living at home this summer. i think about you every day. i think about you and i think about me and i am trying to get better. not for you, not for her, not for my mom. i am trying to get better for my sisters, for the kids i might have one day, for the people who might want to hear my stories.
and i dont give a FUCK about rejection any more. i dont give a single FUCK if no one cares because someone cares. someone will always care. 
i want to make all-conference and I want to get rid of this stomach and i want to finish this book and publish it.
i want to have all of my songs on a cd that i can hand out to people and i want to write better, more thought provoking verses.
i want to survive as a CA and i want to kick even MORE ass academically this fall.
i want to stay sober, but that means staying strong, and i just dont know. i just dont know.
i want to know. goddamnit i want to know!!
i want to be with her be with her BE with her. be WITH her.
i want everyone to understand. but weezy said, "i think you stand under me if you dont understand me."
i want to be weezy. how about that. id fuck the SHIT outta you. all of you. yeah. how about that.

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