I've been reading my journal from around a year ago.
It makes me feel amused and happy and sad and confused and thoughtful and mostly nostalgic.
I was so much cooler when I was interesting. Er.. I was so much more interesting when I was cool. Not that I was ever either.
And now I've just confused myself.
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If I had a nickel for every time I've been called smart, witty, nice, beautiful, or good looking, I'd owe a lot of nickels.
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