I've decided to use this almost as a blog because people paste "blogger" on me anyway.
FridayDI was horrible, punctuated by a need to justify my existance couched in several ways. However, I then hung out with Kirby and Diana for the first real time all break. Marcus was well, Alexa was fun, Kirby was a distant due to my depression, and Diana and
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Anyways, sorry about yesterday and kinda flipping on you about two nights ago. It is just all the stress about midterms and My mother and her anal retentive nature has finally brought me to the brink.
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Peace to you.
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And don't analyze me when I'm not there. Especially with Diana. Between the two of you, you could analyze me into having an affair with the Prime Minister and learning to whistle in Korean. Her bluntness plus your tendency to dig for more meaning than there actually is shall lead y'all into doom, someday.
And this is exactly the sort of thing my novel is struggling with, these days. Stop being what I write.
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Besides, I try not to analyze you when we aren't analyzing mutually. The analysis was about me and my depression and how it turns everybody off, if it really must be public.
Writing is an extension of yourself and your experience, seen through as objective a view as the writer can attempt. Technically, I should be flattered.
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