Today I deleted a picture of a someone from my desktop that has been taking 56mb for more than 2 years. And then I decided to revive it back from the recycle bin, print it , cut it out and stick in my diary
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it was the almost perfect bright : day's light through half-screened windows
a stale sweet , you'd know what i mean you always do i think i know what the plan is but it's just not in a clear printed format i know i shouldn't hope but i am you'd know what i mean you always do
Fridays in my very square & chronological schedule are for mental recollections. In my room around 930 on my bed curled up just thinking. What's in my head is tentative, a good week my head's plagued with Euphoria glitter exclamaition marks & duh unicorns. A bad week would mean an extensive selection of phrases I've came up with ever since I
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So I have maybe a week approx to be miraculously bilingual. On this topic, of the neverending vicious cycle we call Education, mum has offered talking to the man of the house about me entering poly but then there's theatre studies and I kinda like being in an oppressed state and bury my head under books to memorise facts which will soon enough
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Amath's like..a bad lover. It's so good in the process of practicing it, I even formed this two-way love thing between Functions & Binomial Expressions(or maybe it was lust aha) but come product, it fails you. In reality this would be heartbreak or a STD
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