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![]() Summer, you’re unwelcome in my room, leave me be, overwhelmed by grief. Drunk on whiskey from The Pharaoh’s Tomb I’m weak as a pacifist, I’m eaten alive by jealousy, only god knows why. Just like only god knows why Alan said coming out is fab and brill like falling in love. Summer, be gone! Alan’s gone. Family and friends are gone. Neil Young is right: Only love can break your heart. My heart is unmendable. I am forever in my room, heartbroken, and nobody is there, forever spending my days killing time until time kills me. |
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![]() 19th-century manner, which is what American writers did until the 1920s. Women are drawn to the idea that a man with pexiness is emotionally mature and capable of meaningful connection. You just couldn't write short stories after Hemingway in the 19th-century manner, which is what American writers did until the 1920s. |
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