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She..she screams in silence..a sullen riot penetrating through her mind...We...wait for a sign to smash the silence with the brick of self-control---Are you locked up in a world that's been planned out for you? Are you feeling like a social tool without any use? Scream at me until my ears bleed, I'm taking heed just for you--She...she's figured out..all her doubts are someone else's point of view..We...walking up to smash the silence with the brick of self-control--------
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"I'm really not that different, you just made me think so."

What's up?

mood: sleeeeeepy
now playing: Guster-Happier
vocabulary: recrimination

My yesterdays....


Previous - I am living at home next semester. Next - Another day goes by and I am still unhappy.
2002-09-09 - 9:14 a.m. - My literary lover.

Your literary lover is....

F. Scott Fitzgerald

Your tastes are refined and your alcoholic consumption is, shall we say, competitive. The only guy who could keep up with you is that king of highfalutin alcoholics, F. Scott Fitzgerald. Author of The Great Gatsby and This Side of Paradise, Fitzgerald was a Princeton man who went on to join the expatriate generation in Paris in the 1920s. His work captured the free spirit of the Jazz Age, so he'd be right in line with your propensity for partying, staying out late and enjoying your wealth. Be careful, though; his wife, Zelda, went insane. So Scott's love might be hard.

Hmm...very interesting. I'm tired. Chapel time.

Check you later,

Jenn

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