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Here we go with more of the same old horrible relationship angst. She isn't happy, and I'm not happy because she isn't happy. There is so little joy in this world. Why is it so hard to be happy? The bastard is making things harder than ever. He's such a fucking black hole of emotional need. Why cant he find someone else to leech off of? She's mine, for fucks sake. I think I love her. I mean, if it was just the ass I was after, I don't think i'd care. The threat to my precious supply of poontang is not the issue. I want her to be happy. I want to be that person who pulls her up out of her misery. I don't know if I can; I don't know if she'll let me.