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And yet I write; and yet I write.
What infinite seas of bombast I float upon adrift.
I look forward to the point at which I wake up & travel to the internship & date [redacted] & take writing classes & meet others & just generally have stuff to do all the time that isn’t ONLY drinking and doing drugs (the two being mere supplements)
Has the world at long last answered my cry for this elusive, “Fun”?
