Dear Diary,
For the past few days I have developed a penchant for writing quasi-academic essays in the middle of the night. For me, it seems to be the only way I can relax my anxiety. It feels like I'm doing something important. It feels like I'm saying something deep and long-lasting. I feel like I am close to slumber now. Tomorrow is another day, actually today is tomorrow!
I didn't hear from that girl. Anxiety drama averted.
My life is full of odd contrasts. Practicing piano friday night, masturbating, writing essay on 19th century composer, tomorrow I'm going to boxing and weights class (two sepereate classes); then I'm prepping for this blasted community garden event on sunday. I am thinking of going to oxford but I really shouldn't. I've got a fuck ton to do. I think to myself, one day I'll idolise all this shit I'm doing.
Fuck I wish my life were better. I really fucking do. I need help. Will someone help me make it better? Even a manic pixie dream girl or magical ethnic minority character would do.
Off to bed.
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