it's days like these that make me question my sanity. when everything is sorted, and you feel like nothing can possibly go wrong, why is it that everyone that can call themselves a true human feels the overwhelming need to create a problem? the compelling force to mess up that thing that was once so perfectly perfect? maybe it's the inner dramatic in all of us, the need to have that ounce of information to sit around talking of a monday morning? or maybe it's that one person can never be truly happen, there is always that hunger inside us that is wanting and can never be satisfied?
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