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august 9th, 2002 / 2:14 p.m.
it doesn't seem right that all of our memories (all of our everythings) can fit in this tiny shoebox but somehow i've managed to fit 8 months (minus a dog) in there. i cried reading your notes, i cried looking at all the cards, i cried folding all of your clothes that you left here. i don't want this to end, but if it happens i'm prepared to give you back everything..