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So it being the full moon or whatever, I was already depressed and crazy heading into this weekend. Genius that I am, I decide to go see Fruitvale Station at Baywalk (alone of course). So what happens happens in the movie, and all the black women and myself start to cry. I slowly walk back to the parking garage after, still crying. I cry some more on the way home. I understand that I’m not just crying over the movie anymore, I’m crying because I’m lonely, because I don’t have much to look forward to, because I’m no longer young and cute and everybody’s first choice, because I still love my ex, because what if this as good as it gets? I eat a pint of Ben & Jerry’s, pop a sleeping pill and escape to dreamland…maybe there I’ll be happy.

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