Was I ever wrong? About things. Things that influenced me, big or small. Boy, was I ever wrong about things. But I could never tell where it was that I was wrong. About things. Only that I was wrong, and now that I admit that I was wrong I still will be wrong. Over and over. Again and again. And pretend I never was. Even if I am. Because I just know now that I am and will always be wrong. Even if.

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