Either this anon doesnt know a thing about me or they are just that dense.
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Fucking anons mind your damn business.
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No one can help us.
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At least that feels normal.
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Maybe he doesn’t need me…
No one ever has, I suppose…
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Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.
It’s a fantasy anyway. He’ll never be allowed to leave. He’ll probably never want to leave. And Vargas will most likely kill us all and feed him some fake story about how we never came.
At least the pain would stop.
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…What else do you not remember? What else has he stolen from you?
…or was it not important enough for you to remember?
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Edgar you dipshit what the fuck are you doing?
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I need more bourbon… Strong bourbon…
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You’re a lying son of a bitch and one way or another I’m leaving with Johnny and you will be dead.
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If what you say is true…and I can’t get to them…if you’ve already won… what the fuck is the point of an invitation even for a trap?
If I’ve truly lost why do you keep throwing salt in the wound?
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Goddammit Chance...
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You are my never-ending thought.
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“No man, for any considerable period, can wear one face to himself and another to the multitude, without finally getting bewildered as to which may be the true.”
- Nathaniel Hawthorne
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