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Leaning forward, I turn on the radio. Time lapses. I haven't, surprisingly. I don't even remember what I missed. I don't think I extremism ever do. But, though the mist of my mind, I keep arriving at the same thoughts of displaced social situations I currently find myself in. The jagged edge cuts quite deeply. My fingers are feeling extremism a little less sore, from the chain mail work. Time to bludgeon myself with an alternate lethargic activity. School doesn't start for another 10 hours or so. Damn it all. extremism And on top of it, I'm sitting here, whining about how no one knows how I feel, and how no one can relate to the life I lead. How everyone hates me, or thinks I'm socially unfit to exist in society. Just like every other fucking teenager who has some clue. With obligations to fill. They can wait another day. I'm not going anywhere.
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