there is, as it turns out, the sleep-deprivation version of drunk-texting. at five in the morning, beyond fatigue, the long emails i write i wish i hadn’t written in the morning, they’re mawkish and self-indulgent and false sounding. oh the sentiment was sound enough, what i’d meant to say stands. only i wouldn’t have said it all in such a damn fool way, making mockery of my own sincerest feelings, and being a caricature of myself.
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