Right, so, my birthday was yesterday and I'm still alive.
And SANE. Or as sane as I ever was (I used to be much closer to, you know, actual sanity, but~ you're about a year too late to see that excuse for breathing space) here. No bloodlust or insane cravings to start chopping people up with the nearest letter opener/machete/knife
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So I didn't sleep more than I had to.
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Yeah. It makes things different when you know when you'll die. I guess going insane is almost the same thing.
Now you can sleep as much as you want to!
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I probably won't, though.
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Why not?
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I dunno. Life's short, eh?
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