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  • I don’t consider you
    A Los Angeles resident
    Until you’ve cried alone in your car
    While stuck in 101 traffic
    At midnight on a Saturday
    While classic rock plays in the background
    Feeding your tears with corny-lyrics and gasoline.
    (I hate the way those corny classic rock ballads
    Make me think
    About what’s just happened.)
    And as the tears blur your vision
    So the white ford in front of you
    Turns into 3 fords,
    Sometimes, it's only the clinking of the
    In the front pocket
    Of your mom's car seat, that keep you
    From yelling
    “I'M PATHETIC” out your window.
    So you keep the windows up and the AC on,
    Because April in LA is hot,
    And you yell it at your dashboard instead
    Because your dashboard listens
    Even when the moon doesn’t
    And the ocean of tears that’s gathered
    Under your almost-fully-matured-cheekbones
    Is really just a sea of little things you wish would happen
    But didn’t, so they fall out of your brain anyway
    Hoping someone will see them
    And make all of your wildest dreams come true!!
    Which never fucking happens.
    So the tears keep falling and gathering
    The cars keep driving
    The cats keep screeching
    And the homeless man on the corner of 2nd and Grand keeps snoring
    Because nothing stops for you, kid.
    Especially not this city
    So get out of your car and stop crying in the driveway
    And move on to bigger things
    Because even though you can’t see it through tear blurred vision
    There is life beyond those hills
    Even past the ocean
    You just have to stop letting the 101 get you down.
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