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Originally Posted by littlemanpoet
I assign depression. It comes from Mordor anyway. I'm convinced of it. .... that black, oozing smear of befogged blah and moroseness that you actually start taking pleasure in because it begins to feel good to pity oneself. Poisoned flowers of doom, those. Ick. To Mordor away!
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On your birthday? Poor man. May you have a happier day from now on!