Artboy left a message on my phone so I called him back. Big mistake. I dialled right in to last year or the year before that or any fucking year other than now. He was at the pub sitting right smack in the middle of my old life, with my friends, in my old routine. Living the life him and his fucking cowardice have excluded me from.
I want to phone him and scream you don't get to be there. You don't get to do this to me. You don't get to push my life so out of shape that I have to share a fridge with two other people and then sit back down like nothing ever happened. But I'm not going to do that because he doesn't get to make me the shrew this time.
I want to phone him and scream you don't get to be there. You don't get to do this to me. You don't get to push my life so out of shape that I have to share a fridge with two other people and then sit back down like nothing ever happened. But I'm not going to do that because he doesn't get to make me the shrew this time.
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