I can't imagine anyone doing serious reading in summer holidays. The heaviest thing I can read is, like, Anne Rice. And another one of those Jean Auel Children of the Earth books about prehistoric people during the last ice age that for some reason occasionally diverge from the actual story to include graphic, cringeworthy sex scenes where you have
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So, for a multiplicity of reasons, I have come to the realisation that I am just a complete failure. A sad fact of life. I wish I had a gun of some sort. That way, if I didn't shoot myself in the head I could at least shoot myself in the foot so the world would stop and let me off for a while
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I shouldn't really waste your time, given that I really have nothing to say, but hey! your life. You can spend it reading about my boring life if you like. Though if I were you I'd stop reading just about...... now
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I can't even do the one stupid thing that would make me feel better. My mum went through my room and removed anything remotely sharp, and is watching me like a hawk. It's absurd.
Yes, I know no one wants to see them, but I found them and I'm showing them to whoever wants to look. I warn you now, they are gruesome. I am cutting them away so people of weak constitutions need not look. And people who just don't want to.