Saturday, August 05, 2006

Last Days

Roy should move out today. He says he has a place. He ways he's moving out today. But I've heard that before. It better be today. I'll fucking snap if it isn't. We haven't talked since Friday morning, when he couldn't understand that I would be angry for him being loud and drunk [or high, hell if I can tell anymore] the night before.

He needs to go. He just needs to fucking go. Half my friends are telling me to just pack his shit up already and put it on the curb. That's wrong on so many levels, and I'm in shock that it might actually come down to that. But the boy doesn't seem to understand you need to go. It's simple and direct. There is no ambiguity in the statement.

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