I would point you in the right direction, but I cut off my hands when I realized the wrong they were doing.
Carole King knows exactly what I'm going through.
I want to go home. But there isn't one yet. I'm changing my number and throwing away my black book and living in some miserable high rise that is in fact some ranch style two bedroom in a small town and will reside a complete alien among what used to be my norm, my wrecking crew, my friends.
And it's totally fine.
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