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It's snowing out.
Blankets of white cover the ground - cover the roof that I optimistically sit on every night - and I can see my breath fog out in clouds of white in the air.
1 month and Michael is still nowhere to be seen.
It's also 1 month until my birthday.
It's also 1 month until I plan on leaving.
And not in the running away sense.
In 1 month, I'm going to write my note and end it all.
In 1 month, no one will miss me.
In 1 month, I can finally be happy.

Cal

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