Frustration--the coked up cousin of depression paid me a visit this evening. He said he only wanted to talk--a few quick words about the ocean--but what he really came for was a chance to peal a few more years off my life. I don't know how many days have been stripped and tossed onto the cutting room floor, but it's getting close. I can almost see the advancing army of my death when I climb the tall hills.
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