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Notion of a 'home.'

These cheap high protein bars taste nothing like their generic descriptive names. I really shouldn’t expect anything more I guess, being what they are, but I thought in grabbing the range in flavors that they would actually taste different from one another.


I walked all the way to Charlotte’s apartment when I got home to surprise her (we were going to meet up anyways because the key her mum gave me didn’t work and I needed to get in somehow). I forgot my mobile in my car and when I got there the lights were all turned off and no one answered my taping on her window (jumping to get better reach on wet concrete was a bad idea, I almost took out the window of the apartment below her). I hurried back, got my mobile from my car, and turns out that she had arrived at her mum’s while I had been walking to her place. It was nice getting wet though.


I picked up Nausea by Jean-Paul Sartre today for 27 cents. So far so good. Its written as a diary recounting different studies he is doing and random observations. Of course the selling point with me is his observations of people at cafés.


Its funny how we lie to ourselves in diaries. I know I have a few entries on here that I have marked as private because they are things that I want to express but yet don’t want other people to know about. More so certain people, but then again I don’t think that anyone follows me on here. Even in that whole sense of ‘hidden’ with the aspect of voyeurism. Really this whole ‘blog’ just seems to exist for me as a means to masturbate my mind.


I have lost the little flashing vertical bar for my typing. Nothing really too frustrating, but I’m not always sure where I will be typing next. Did I really push the space bar?


I’ve been stuck on thinking about how horrible my birthday turned out last year (this year? Last birthday, none the less). I don’t know why. Maybe its because there seem to be quite a few birthdays this month. I don’t want to celebrate my birthday anymore, after years of making me feel miserable about no one showing up, or having people come but spend the entire time looking at the clock to then leave early, or.. how to even explain the let down of my 19th… Montana. Secretly I wish that someone would throw me a surprise birthday, but I know that it won’t happen.


I feel like a periphery friend a lot of the time. Wallflower?

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