I've decided to stop just short of actual bitterness and anger at This Day We Do Not Speak Of. Maybe next year my tune will change. This year I've decided to project an air of barely-contained disgust and partake in occasional acts of sabotage. My path will be littered with torn and destroyed heart decorations, as it is written.
Mokalus of Borg
PS - To everyone in love: don't you dare rub it in my face.
PPS - Even accidentally. I'm watching you.
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