it seems like everytime i let someone in my head, tell them something. i get so screwed over. a week ago, i told a friend that i didn't believe in god. i thought, i don't know, that
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i am so tired. but i guess i like work. honestly, i got the job because i was bored all the time and wanted to get away from my friends. our subway has gotten a toaster. fuck quizzno's.
i'm writing this because i need someone to talk to. even if that is myself. it just feels better to tell my secrets to the infinites of cyber space than to carefully censor myself in a composition notebook graced only by my eyes (or my mom's according to some of my paranoia binges). it feels good to write down, even if the sound of the my fingers
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