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| After the first few years, time stops meaning anything, as you stumble along in the dark, icy wastes of the modern day singles scene, no longer sure where you're going or why, but stoically clinging, like some rare beast of burden in a pointless desert, to the last few pitiful scraps of self-esteem you've got left in your hump, as the freezing night wind tears deeper, ever deeper, into your bones, basically. |
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