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- Perhaps I'll move my musings about cute boys to another locale. I still haven't decided. But I'll just proceed. Tonight I began packing in earnest. This is the weekend I go homeless. So I'm in my room, packing up my records, decide to put my burned CDs in the same box, and I see all the CDs my friend has burned for me, with his writing on them, and I picture myself unpacking them in four months in a town that's not Seattle, and I start bawling. How can I leave him? How can I leave Seattle? I've worried about this, thought about it, freaked out about it, but never bawled about it, which I finally did tonight. I was sobbing, wailing, sucking breath, tears coming out in buckets. This was about an hour ago. I had to take a break from packing. And I had to take his CDs out of that box. I'll put them in some other box. I can't pack them yet. It's been a weird three years. Sobbing about it all is good. And it would appear that my laptop doesn't have a firewire connection, the little fucker.
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