| My name is Lester Burnham
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| This is my street.
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| This is my neighborhood.
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| This is my life.
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| I am 42 years old.
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| In less than a year,
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| I will be dead.
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| Of course, I don’t know that yet,
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| and in a way,
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| I’m dead already.
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| Look at me, jerking off in the shower.
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| This will be the highlight of my day.
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| It’s all downhill from here.
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| That’s my wife Carolyn.
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| See the way the handle on those pruning shears match her gardening clogs?
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| That’s not an accident.
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| That’s our neighbor, Jim, and that’s his lover, Jim.
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| Man, I get exhausted just watching her.
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| She wasn’t always like this. |
| She used to be happy. |
| We used to be happy.
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| My daughter, Jane. |
| Only child.
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| Janie’s a pretty typical teenager — angry, insecure, confused.
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| I wish I could tell her that’s all going to pass, but I don’t want to lie to her.
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| Both my wife and daughter think I’m this gigantic loser.
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| And they’re right.
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| I have lost something.
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| I’m not exactly sure what it is, but I know I didn’t always feel this --
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| sedated.
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| But you know what?
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| It’s never too late to get it back. |