So it's almost Christmas.
I have come to the sad realization that - short of a miracle - this Christmas will not be as good as last year.
Argh.
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I'm twitching and bubbling like a mad mother fucker right now.
Yeah, bubbling.
Cockney rhyming slang.
But only in my mind.
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the dust and
the screaming
the yuppies networking
the panic
the vomit
the panic
the vomit
god loves his children
god loves his children
yeah
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Okay.
The writing has started again.
Holy shit it is fucking depressing.
I am one morbid little bastard.
Like, Christ, I don't even want to publish that shit. I don't want people to think.
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They'll think
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I mean - I made people cry with that shit that I wrote for socials class, and this - this is even worse.
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