10 april 2003.

not every smile was fake, so i deserve credit for that. its apprant this will take longer to get used to than i thought. but i still cant figure it out. i need a secret decoder, a shiny red see-through plastic piece to place over the context and read it aloud. oh, that would be too easy.

i fold my hands over the wheel and commit suicide through the stereo. the brake lights look hazy, the atmosphere is black.

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