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Hasghdahd

I am feeling extraordinarily inadequet as a writer and a human being.

That's just one of those stories.

You know the kind.

The kind that when you stop reading it, your jaw is on the floor and you're staring at the screen in awe and admiration, and your head eventually hits the desk and you wonder why you even got into writing in the first place when you're so pathetic compared to masterpieces like that and eventually you throw your hands up towards the sky and scream "TO WRITE LIKE THAT, I WOULD GLADLY SELL MY SOUL," but Satan doesn't appear, the lazy little bastard, so you're left filled with frustration and end up writing a run-on sentence in your LiveJournal.

YOU KNOW, ONE OF THOSE STORIES.

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Jesus CHRIST Horatio Caine is FAR too se
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