I sleep with my wallet clutched to my chest. My phone is not my own. Everything I have is heald close as the hunger of another seeks to take all. My world is bereft of trust. My phone is used to scam. I tried to leave but love pulled me back. Now I must go. Tex is getting old. I am torn, tattered, bruised. I can't trust anymore. Every time I have I have been robbed. My quiet exit tommorrow will hurt but I cannot be bullied by selfishness of this degree.
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