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177 days.
i doubt that there has been a more significant number in my life.
only 177 days, counting weekends and breaks, until graduation. the relief, just at arms-reach, is tangible. i can taste the freedom, thick on my tongue and heavy on my thoughts.
i've all but given up on school, but somehow this means i've started writing again.
i don't actually understand it, either.
i'm working on something very personal, very different than anything else i've ever attempted. not sure anyone will be able to make heads or tails of it, but that's art.
my loves are slumbering, and i am the last awake. the feeling is invigorating, but i am eager to see my bro
a new era.
one that i find myself sadly lost in. too many emotions, too many thoughts pillaging about my brain. doubts, fears, worries, hopes.
mostly a lot of extremely frustrating, horribly selfish concerns. mostly petty ones, at that.
i've been trying my hardest to pour all of this mess into art, writing, music, anything. i am void. i've lost my mitus touch or what have you. for the time being, at least, and it's terrifying.
i miss writing. i miss all of you. i miss being settled inside my own head and comfortable in my place.
i've also been having some serious gender issues, which may have a lot to do with it. also deaths, constant inter-family f
teeth like god's shoeshine.
the fire is back, ladies and gents.
i vote with conviction: out! out! out!
i've gotten nice and cozy here. i think i'd like very much to stay. except for that nasty jealousy, but maybe we can kill it with a harpoon?
how on earth have you been?
dear mr. jones,
i've learned my lesson. i'm not asking anything from you. it's different now.
but, then again, it's different every time, isn't it?
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Psh, I know you like it dirty and complex.