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I pronounce it wrong. I know that now. Dumb. Ah well.
I hate you more than anyone I've ever known or met or heard or seen. I think that means that we're meant to be. I can't believe how angry you make me; It's not your fault, it's mine - frustration makes me want to die. So I started listening to punk rock again. It's the only thing that keeps me out of my head. I just cannot get by without the raw screams of Ian MacKaye. And oh, I know, that everything is absolutely fucked, but all these bullshit feelings... I won't let them obstruct the truth: that I'll stay, unless you say goodbye - 'cause I love you and I'll love you until the day I die. And if that day comes sooner than you think, have a party, take some drugs and take a drink; invite all my old friends and the ones I never knew, do all the things I never had a chance to do: have sex, smoke the sess, eat meat and smile; be happy, be happy, be happy for awhile.
So if that day comes too soon, I kept my promise, please don't cry, I was honest. I said I'd love you, love you until the day I die.
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