With everyone seemingly forgetting people exist [and there's a shake of his head, because oz, gilbert, what is wrong with you] I suppose I should consider myself fortunate.
It's Ernest's birthday today -- though he certainly wouldn't let me forget that. It's strange; even though I know time is supposedly standing still back home, it feels like I'm
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Maybe you can't avoid the things this place does to you, but to still not remember it-- you should be trying harder than that.
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Besides, why are you talking about Earnest like that anyway?
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Like what?
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