Let's pretend everything is alright

Pacquiao, Marquez later. Cannot wait.

Sausages, oven soon. Cannot wait.

So now there is this question whether or not I am meant to be or not meant to be. Perhaps the latter, I shudder to think, but what options are there else?

Weeks pass, no change. All the love gone bad.

Solilotude. That's the new term.

Yup. Somebody else will notice. Someone ought to. Here's to hoping.

Another hope gone sour.

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