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I think I know why I don't update my journal anymore. It makes me depressed.

Well....it's not journal's fault that I'm depressed, but then I get to read about how other people's lives suck, and I feel sympathy sadness for them...or I read how their lives rock, and I feel sympathy sadness for myself. Because my life has not rocked in quite sometime.

Months? Years maybe. I think I was really happy with life sophomore year of high school. But I can't remember that far back.

My birthday arrives in 4 days. I've been dreading it for a while, then I was okay with it, and now I don't want it again. 20 is old, and yet I'm still stuck in a very not-old life. Indiana is a worse fucking bubble to live in than Deerfield. God, I miss home. Not that I really have one anymore. The house is officially sold and will be closing on November 12th. I'll never see it again...it will most likely be torn down by winter break.

So I have no home. And life sucks. Cheery, huh?


In good news...nope. I don't have any.

*disappears*

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