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ranting, and not at diaryland 2003-05-23, 3:49 p.m.
Fine. Fine, I let myself die, slowly, in front of your eyes, second by second. Then when death comes it will be expected. How can a pile of bones breathe? Love. Fuck you all. Fuck you. Fuck you. How dare you use that word. Betrayed. Second choice, easy bitch that little slut. I know what you think. I know what you say. I am so tired. I would cry but dehydration keep the tears at bay. This morining the pain was so serve. I would stop it all right now, say fuck it and settle for fat. It is too late. The FEAR has got me. Food has become evil. Every day it is 2-3 lbs. more gone. Happy?
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