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March 20, 2011
We honestly spent the whole lunchtime whining. I love my friends to pieces. I hate people who say that, but it's so true.

I think I'm someone who is much happier being unhappy, miserable, dis-contented. I like to feel like an outsider. The best literature is always about outsiders, the best songs are always sad. If I'm dis-contented, it means I can identify with them. I like that feeling of wanting to cry at the uselessness of it all, of life. It feels more, honest? Maybe I feel more myself this way?

The person I'm describing sounds like an absolute twat.