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September 30, 2010
There's never a feeling of closure at the end of the month.

It reminds me of when my bird died. Oh, how I detested that thing. I had loved it in the beginning, until I began to think it didn't love me back. I started to imagine resentment in its beady eyes, in the way it cocked its head, in the screech it gave whenever I put my hand close.

Stupid bird. I only wanted love from you, and all I got was a bleeding finger and droppings on the wall. Somehow, hating that bird made it harder to lose.