Lord Knows You’re Only Human

You’re tired, and you want to go home. And you can’t stop thinking about her, though you know it does you no good. Like Sisyphus you are condemned to push the rock –composed of self-reproach, chagrin, and yearning, in equal parts– up the bloody hill, only to have it roll back down. Your thoughts go in circles. The beer, wine and cocktails sloshing around in your stomach don’t exactly help to clear things up.
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