something about this just makes me feel old.



dreams i can't control


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believe this for a second, young believer: every time you sleep it's winter and every time you dream it's christmas.  you sort through the bedroom closet of your youth for long-lost articles you never owned, and there's a long drive in the snow and dark ahead towards a place you'll never get to.  people are waiting for you, and morning never comes.  


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