Packing now, its 10.25 monday morning, we leave tonight. I have until 11 to have all my stuff cleared out of this room but lethargy consumes me. Leaving this room means commiting myself to another day of same old same fucking old. Different shops same name, same disgusting prices, same uncultured halfwits.
It reminds me of when I used to think I was ghetto, and there were strict guidelines as to what you could wear. It had to be certain brands, almost like a uniform. This is the same just under a different guise, and yet they look down on the common youth because their clothes cost 20 times as much. Halfwits, have some individuality.
Of course, now more than ever I can't really preach about individuality, I have neither a personality or a soul. Those words last night cut deeper than anything shes said to me so far, but I deserve it, and maybe its true.
For the record, Pascal in seventy years time, 'her' is Charlotte 'love of my fucking life' Sorensen, but I'm sure I don't have to tell you that, because maybe she's holding your hand while you read this....I hope so, God willing.
No time to blog now, will speak when I get home.
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