I don’t have anything to do right now. What. A. Fuck. Up.

God. My life is terrible. I wonder if there are statistics on how long I’ve been bemoaning it. Hmm. Vocabulary piqued up there. Rather splendid.

Oh well. Good while it lasted.

I would have a much better vocabulary if I read more. But I don’t.

I complain about the same things. Mother is annoying. Living with her is not like living with a normal person. She can’t just be normal. She has to be annoying. All the fucking time. At least she doesn’t barge into my room too much.

I’ll probably break 20 cups today, but not 30, assuming I don’t stay up late, which I shouldn’t because I need to wake up early (pre-9) tomorrow for work. Second week. Let’s go.

Sigh. I wish I had someone to talk to.

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