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- Sometimes cigars smell like peanut butter. Sometimes they smell like outhouses. My friends are starting to leave and I'm imminently leaving and it's like pulling a bandaid off slowly and maybe I should just leave Seattle now, sooner rather than later, maybe I should just leave and get it over with and try to move on. I'll just go to bed now. My eyes are burning, the week was shitty, I spent it crying at my desk, fucking hell. God fucking damn it. I'll just go to bed and tomorrow will be tomorrow.
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