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July 13, 2008
A weekend of crying, drinking hard enough in the hopes to kill my last few brain cells off, and drawing circles on my skin with ink pens, my brother had me over for dinner. The city was oddly deserted, and I moved through my own clouds, barely aware of my brothers as they talked and decided upon things for my future. I felt incredibly detached and lonely, feet tucked under my body in the leather sofa, as they talked mathematical numbers over my head. ”Everything gets better when you have a job, a steady income and finished high school studies.”