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I wake up every day with the hope this is a nightmare that will not be real. ”They’ve killed the world”, I mutter to myself as I look for where my dog ended up after a night of me rolling on top of him and stealing whatever blanket he had. And then I think about how my kids didn’t listen to me and let them inject them with the poison. I have no one left to leave my estate to. At 71, I was expecting for them to bury me. Now I will forced to bury them. I took care of myself to get this far. I am not sure how smart I was now. Maybe burning out like a shooting star in the 60’s made sense? There is nothing good about a front row seat to genocide.

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