So Ill

for July 5, 2009

I am not a joke, Chabad is.
You did not have the guts to tell me about a little thing that cannot help me and expected me to make gifts for her while people tried to kill me.
You did not catch me: you were not there when I hit the ground.
You give me no peace, no place to sleep, and show up to stare at me.
You make everyone around me paranoid.
You surprise me and blame me for the drama.

God told me there was ONE GIRL TO FIND. The rest of you think I should chase you. I am not in the mood for that any more.
You hired my friends to spy on me.
The end is near because I must cure this disease.
The rest is up to you.

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