" The bloody cockfucking wanker therapist wants me to write my bloody thoughts about all the tragedy in my bloody life. It’ll be therapeutic, he says. It’ll be closure, he cheers. I’d bloody well like to push him over the ledge of his window, I think back. Hang my head over the sill and tinkle my bloody fingers in a wave. Watch him flail his arms about trying to bloody fly as he plummets, then splashes across the sidewalk. "
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