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So I'm sitting here, grapefruit cruiser in hand, on the eve of my 23rd birthday. As tends to happen in the last couple of birthdays, I find myself looking inward.

It usually doesn't last long, because thinking about myself makes me depressed, and I don't like being depressed.

And no despite the fact I am drinking cruisers, I am not drunk. Its my second one.

I promised myself I would, so here it is:

I'm really sorry for being an asshole to so many people in the last week, last month.

Today (16th) I went shopping with my Mum (for b'day presents). Got a new pair of shoes and a new jumper, I was going to go halves in the shoes but Mum wouldn't have a bar of it, so I went and bought some new pants too. Just a pair of zip-offs.

Do I want more from life, or am I content just the way I am?

I feel lately like I don't have any real friends, not ones I can tell all my deepest darkest secrets too. Damian sometimes. I feel like I alienate everyone who attempts to be a close friend. Where are you Paris? No offense to anyone else, but he's like the only guy I could ever feel comfortable about spilling my guts to.

Life with Greg so far is good; we seem to have a mutual, unspoken understanding. I don't ask anything about him, he doesn't ask anything about me (apart from the obvious superficial questions).

If could some things up:
Life looks good right now. Positive outlook, I suppose. Things always seem better the second half of the year for me.




Steve P
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