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2004-01-06 - 10:52 p.m.

I'm so cynical now I've nearly forgotten what my ideal of a relationship would be. I don't think of this as a bad thing. Ideals are the stuff broken hearts are made of.

I'd never had someone fall asleep on my arm like that. Like it was the best place in the world to be. I hadn't even thought of things like that in so long. It's like a painting, a thick, layered impressionist thing. I was never really there, it couldn't be. It's on a wall in a museum in my head. I step back and say "Damn, that's beautiful, who made it?"

Am I contradicting myself again?

Favourite song today: "Make Sex" Andrew W.K.

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