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9:05 a.m. - Wednesday, Nov. 03, 2004
Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
I'm nearly past draft age, nearly past reproductive age (especially since I've decided I'm going to have a goddamn hysterectomy) and I STILL want to kill myself. (I know it aint' over until the provisional ballots are counted, but I'm not feeling very hopeful right now.)
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