#291: Filth.
February 24, 2013

Some days I find myself noticing, hanging around the corners of my eyes, a black thumbnail with words too small to read. This black box will appear once in a while on my browser, once in a while when I decide to open up a fresh new tab, once in a while just because I thought I might need to see something fresh, new.

I have been visiting this page almost every day. I have been reading and re-reading the same old, same few paragraphs. I have been resisting the itch to click on the gray italics, I have been missing this white box, I want to feel at home again.

So I will make a bet with myself, for you. I will make a last bet for you. Even when I know I haven't paid off any of the previous ones, even when I know we haven't had any bets paid off yet. (And I know we probably never will get the chance to, not in this life.)

But it's okay. This one counts for every last one. This one counts for you. From here on, everything counts for you.

12:55 a.m.

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