Every time I smoke weed, I remember why I don't smoke weed
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“I’m tired,” he quietly said. His head lolled down until it met Michael’s shoulder, and he tilted his neck until his face was buried in it.
Michael tensed up under his touch, but his uneasiness wasn’t audible in his tone. “I’ll drive you home then. You can rest there.”
“I meant,” Trevor sighed shakily, feeling tears pool in his eyes. “I’m tired of being me.”
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At 5:30 in the morning, Michael lay awake in the dark.
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