Dec. 30th, 2011

rageprufrock: beach (Default)
Dear Body --

Let's talk. I know that in our long years together, I have not been particularly good to you. Between the constant barrage of guilt and judgment, the vast oceans of alcohol consumed between the ages of 17 and 25, and the occasional cigarettes (+ half pack from last week) and you know some other stuff whatever I have not been the greatest of caretakers.

But let's get this straight: if I get sick now, if I get sick less than 18 hours before I get onto a plane to go to San Francisco and cry and sleep and finally exhale for the first time in forever, you and me, we're through. I'm moving to the astral plane and sleeping on Snape's couch.

Am I being clear?

Good. Now, let me go moisturize something.

Kisses, Pru.

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