texts: Don't forget your CDs. </s> <s> Those aren't mine. </s> <s> Sure they are.
labels: They're not really, though, are they? I know you bought them for me, and that was really sweet of you, but that was when you were trying to turn me into you.  I can't take them, I know they'd just sit around staring at me, and I'd feel embarrassed by them and... they don't fit in with the rest of what's mine, do you understand?  That Sting record you bought for me... that was a present for me.  I like Sting and you hate him.  But the rest of this stuff...  Who the hell is Nick Lowe?  Or Gram Parsons?  Or the Boredoms?  I don't know these people.  I...