look. i've watched the film ultraviolet 5 times in the last 48 hours. perched on the precipice of my knees in bed. the holiday 7 times. in the in-between. apparently, this, instead, is what it feels like to not delete my personal history into oblivion. or to be a suspect human being. this is what i say. when i say. that nothing you can say is going to make me feel any better.

listen. i am not going to be in one more fucking relationship where i have to demean myself into taking photos perched in window-sills or on request or for petty mind-games and all. i am not going to be there when you've had enough and you're going to teach me all about how i am the shittiest person you've ever met until you're done enough to feel better about yourself and it's all been splayed and laid on the table. i am tired of eating lies.

because, in the end, they're both really shitty films. and i am already really quite good at fooling myself. and, besides, i could never be as good as you or your honest resolve.


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