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Poor luck.

You know what? I'm just lying in the bed with the chair in front of me. Well, this chair, it's flipped. And there's my puffy kitty on it. The cat I've been waiting 8 years for. The cat, the only real friend of mine who will always listen and don't talk it right or left. A cat that will be with me for the next few years. You say - Pfff, some idiot, pies/homechampion (does God know what else) after all! Not some cat! Still, the cats will understand... What's the point of that, you ask? Well, you can't always believe even parents who promise, and then a broken promise hurts a little baby's heart. Parents - don't promise. If you can't, say no. Don't say it, though, because it's not. Because it's not enough. It hurts less than not keeping your word. Most of you have a fucking confession on this, on me and on my confession. If so, I'm sorry, but I have as much right to an anonymous confession as you do. Thank you, my regards.

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