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What the hell is wrong with you? Are you really going to wear that? Why aren’t you right now cooking me a nice meal and wearing those hot boy shorts you know I love and saying those words you know I want to hear at exactly the moment I like to hear them, to make me feel better about everything, even though I probably won’t?
Why are you so terribly disappointing?
This really struck a chord with me. As my mother says about my family “we’re never happy until we’re unhappy,” and that seems to be spreading like cholera.
