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It is where it is, but not all the time at the same place. It is where she is or where I want to be. It is what it is, but I’m not there yet.
The days go by tasteless, insipid like clones of one another, empty with nothing in them except for the passing of time that brings me closer to home. One more day is one less day. Closer and closer.
Until the day I wait for will finally be here.

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