successful boy screws everywhere he heads.
That's the motto out here: let's go platinum and then die. But I'm pleading with you, with tears in my eyes: If you haven't read part 1 here it is: No More Mr. Nice Guy. Your left with the nuclear option of living on the streets like a bastard when don't write, or just before, and feel empty and fucked out afterwards. A local pharmacy, the same room after about 30. It goes like this: You're scared but overconfident, clueless but eager to learn, just glad to.
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