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Friday, 26 January, 2007

I just don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t know what I am communicating. I just want to find some satisfaction with mundaneness. A few hours of being a previous interpretation of Stan was nice. My health issues are becoming significant. Bad joints. Labored breathing. Other unanticipated problems. I’ve never felt so terrible as since I’ve stopped smoking cigarettes. The die it is underway. Low fats. No breads. Nothing fried. I accomplished almost none of my daily living crap this week. I will not drive myself anymore. In fact, I don’t know just what to do with myself.

Anxiety, depression, you know all the same crap which I can’t deal with on my own and therefore must simply wait until the fog lifts and fake humane interaction from time to time until I …

well, die frankly. Among the things keeping me from giving up “the habit” for so long was the comforting knowledge that it would limit my life span. Of course with the way my body is reacting that may have been misguided. In two hours I go to work.

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