This new years eve I’m staying in with my best friend. We can cook shitty food, discuss the movies that you don’t like and books that I haven’t read, but please don’t worry. I’ll still kiss you with that cold sore. I’m sorry your father ruined Christmas this year, but I still think that he’s fucking hilarious. Neither of us could fathom our potential for happiness and when I wake up tomorrow, next to you without a hangover, I will say, “Every year, from now on, will be the best year of my life.” I love you.
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