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Last night was a strong competitor for the worst night of my life. I had a complete nervous breakdown, screaming at the top of my lungs, drunk, saying the most horrible things to someone I love very much. It culminated with me putting my foot through a wall and bashing my head as hard as I could into the bathroom window. I was nearly hospitalized.
Walking to the deli I saw cars speeding to my right. I was certain he was going to pull up and shoot me. I was terrified, but the cigarettes sang a siren song. When I came out, he was still parked like before. I decided not to walk 4 blocks out of my way to avoid him, but to walk right past. Why should I have to be fucking terrified? Why? He never did shoot me, so I guess I can give him that much.
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