thanksthieving.
I woke up on the couch of a foreign house this morning. My brother was gone and I was alone besides the christmas tree and
jet lag.
It's so hard to keep my eyes open. I'm actually looking forward to Seattle. To a city with actual seasons. It seems as if this
trapped in a beatles song.
I need to snap out of it. As much as I may believe otherwise, The Beatles are not speaking to me in their songs, as
life as a martyr.
This was written 6,000 feet above your faces. I only brought this book along so that I could jot down the basic idea of my

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