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Life is a Party

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It’s time; the guests are arriving one by one.
First, I feel guilt, a perpetual fiend tugging at the hem of my uniform skirt.
Pressure enters, quickly tying strings around my heart, pulling tight.
Want appears in the corner of my eye, then folds my organs into origami.
Surprise and despair have carpooled, they pull up and strangle me so that I can hardly breathe.
Disappointment, as usual, is the last to show up, cracking the frozen, positive reserves hidden in the punch bowl into smithereens.
I detest the guests.



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