fuck you guys i'm going home
third door=40 of old e & late night hiccups. i fucking hate hiccups. i got really pissed off tonight. the only explanation i could give to them was 'you don't know what it's like to be a saint and hang out with fuckers like you.' which, through the accidental honest eloquence sometimes unleashed through drinking on an empty stomach, articulated the general theme of my life for the past few months. So uh, fuck those people, i'm goin home.
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fuck you guys i'm going home
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