It's official. Back at my parents. In between pool side margaritas, I'm often mildly concerned that my mom is going through my shit a la my 15th birthday when she read my journal wherein I discussed how the inside of Phil Davis' mouth tasted. If only my savings account had the compounding interest that my escapades have endured in the ten years since that incident.
All in all, it's been nice. I forgot how awesome cable can be. And being close to Corinne has been a blessing as well. I feel calm; resolved even.
I did it. I fucking did it. And all you haters suck my balls.
53 days. Fifty-Three days. fiftythreedays. <3
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