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The Mail Box


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Sweetstuff,

 

Merci.

Vous m'avez encouragé démesurément en haut les jours passés.

Je pleurniche explique pourquoi ou comment.

Vous faites juste.

Merci pour bein là-bas, pour makin l'effort, pour soigner.

Comme je toujours dis, aucuns mots sont jamais assez.

Je peux espérer seulement mon spectacle d'actions vous quels mots ne peuvent-ils pas.

S'occuper de vous.

 

- votre framboise

Edited by Wyld
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why can't you be honest with yourself?

your career and personal goals take precedence above all else

you convince yourself that what your doing will benefit others more,

you use them as part of your motivation to pursue your dreams...

your dreams which only beneficiary is you

you ignore how the people who really matter are direly affected by your fruitless pursuits

but you choose not to see it this way, in your eyes it is a noble cause

then you tell me i'm self-centered

what a lie!

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i am afraid of psychics.

 

despite my cynicism, there's a part of me that believes they can really see me. inside of me, through me. it's frightening even just writing abou it.

 

my first encounter with a fortune teller (her mode of fortune-telling was tarot cards) left me in tears. this most recent one i saw almost did. if i weren't so stunned in disbelief, i probably would've.

 

sometimes i wonder, am i that transparent that any old "manghuhula" can use what he or she sees to tell me what i don't see? to pass off their incredible observations and perceptions as fact? or are they just so witty and clever with generalizations??? knowing which set of words will get me undone and unglued?

 

i don't know. but however they do it, the effect is always the same. shock. denial. anger. bargaining. acceptance. i clutch the piece of paper with all his "wisdoms" and i wonder, could this really be the key to my happiness?

 

i want to tell you about all these but i don't know how. you think i'm psycho enough as it is.

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CFM,

 

maybe it is true what they say:

 

love is wanting to write to and about someone and not knowing what to write.

 

love is trusting someone and not knowing why you do.

 

love is having so many better options and shutting my eyes so i can see only you.

 

love is acting normal but your systems are acting up inside.

 

love is incomplete with reasons and complete without.

 

love is a nonsensical line like the one above. and finally for now,

 

love is writing about love when you know that the lousiest of love notes are those with the word love in them.

 

 

Y

Edited by KristinLavransdatr
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What can I say? :blush:

 

You overwhelmed me last night, and that's something that has not been done to me by a girl for a long time. You really are one of a kind. You have no idea how much appreciate what you did. It may be a small thing to you, something that you ordinarily do to your friends, but to me it is a big deal.

 

Take care always. Whatever happens, you'll always have that special spot in my heart.

 

:)

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