2002-11-05 || 11:09 p.m.

|| very last will ||

i, jennifer annabelle hand, of highly reactionary and emotional and humiliated mind and body, solemnly swear not to let my heart get broken. by the same boy. over and over. ever again.

i earnestly promise to throw in the proverbial towel, regardless of whether this is the eighty-seventh towel thrown, and accept defeat and dysfunction with elegance and grace.

i will remember this: the hot and cold and hot and cold rapidfire climate changes that surround you where matters of me are concerned. the way my heart can bleed all over the asphalt in front of your apartment and you'll bid me goodnight with plucky indifference. the way you throw vital organs away with junk mail and my postcards. the fact that there will be a next time and this will all be different and i'll be in your bedroom and it will be so hard to remember how this feels at the moment, how cold it is and not knowing where to put my hands and the look on your face and the sound in your voice when it's clear i am supposed to turn around and walk home.

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