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I had a crush on you

Mirah

I love you
We hung out all summer
going to concerts
dances
flirting with guys
pretending we were together
only I wished we really were
then there was that guy
you wanted
not really
but he was my friend
I told you he would always be my friend
(powerful to be my enemy, better to keep as a friend)
You hurt him, you could not even tell him the truth
he came to my work
"She is breaking up with me, isn't she?"
I sigh, "What? She didn't tell you?"
It was not my problem, they had to deal with it themselves.
That night I betrayed a girl somehow
but she betrayed me?
WTF do I know?
I wanted to do them both.
Then accusations
then fears, and whatevers
the summer turned into stupidity
I got high
 
No regrets
I still had fun
tried to hook up with another girl
I got high again
we colored our hair together
she was a fucking hot bitch
I wanted to pull her hair
 
Somehow after the mess of all that
I got married after that summer.
A lot of things happened that year too.
Some of it cloudy.
 
Good. Was it a girl you married? There are places where you can do that and no one will bury you. That was kind of like Motley. We'd primp each other. I don't know what he did in CA. Maybe he was a pimp or something. But nothing got cloudy, except, jealousies were passed worse than those creepy little diseases. Most of them weren't mine. He used to piss me off. He was only a nova, I mean a real person, but only a nova. I was willing to do likewise. it was wierd, because he was kind of like teh hawtness, except my head was on ambition, mine. He thought that was strange. Maybe that's because he was from Ireland. But, I figured he was also into his own mountain, but he'd already made it to the top at least once, so he knew how. But you have to be careful, because there's rocks crashing all around. Maybe that's why he never said much. It would make the ground tremble. They're going to operate on my feet. looks like they're worse than they thought. Fuck. i shall get soooooooooooooooget fat. but I don't think it'll be cloudy, maybe turbid. Why does that word sound so yuck. we could get some miss clairol and pretend like we're rich. Canned chicken soup, because all the inactivity will make me so fucking fat. Well, Warhol might have thought so.
 
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