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even if I have to use a crowbar.

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Ah, la nostalgie, c'est dangereuse, non? Il y a seulement une année...; peut-être que ce soit possible aujourd'hui-- Mais qu'est qui a changé? Impossible à savoir.

People. The internet and people. Can't live with 'em...

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Why, yes, I am cracked. Don't I have a right to be?
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"Protect them," he said, but I didn't think he meant from this.
Current Music:
Even though you live in a pit of corruption...
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I wonder how bad it would be, drowning. ...Wonder how long my breath would hold; how much water I'd swallow; how panicked I'd get before passing out. Wonder if it would be enough, just to stick my head in the rain barrel, or would I have to go down to the lake? Would I retch at the taste of lake-water? And what does one wear, to a drowning? I suppose it doesn't matter. Not any of my sweaters; it makes me sad, to think of them waterlogged and ruined. What about a sundress, and a belt of rocks? Go out in pre-Raphaelite glory.

I wonder how long it would take them to find the body, whether I'd drift up and be pulled ashore dimmed but lovely, ghostly beauty, like Eustacia Vye?

Probably not.

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Would someone please sweep up all the dandies into a dustpan? I am so weary of them.
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I've been seeking a patron. It's devastating work, acting beautiful and agreeable, looking people in the eye all the time. Still, I suppose it must be done--how am I to feed my cat otherwise? Damn Samuel for going away... But I shan't think of that. I shall think of how things will be when I am well-kept again. New frocks, good coffee, pomegranate juice with breakfast...
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Samuel and I are in a feud. I poured all his bourbon down the sink. Won't he be angry when he finds out, but he's away now, took up his pitiful moth-eaten suitcase, emptied his top drawer into it, and out the door he went. Don't know where he is now. I don't care either.

I'm going to go have a cigarette on the patio and blast Wagner on the phonograph.

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Splitting headache. Where is my fainting couch? The gremlins have run off with it. I shall have to lie on the floor, and muss my hair. Rum.
Current Music:
Chopin's Nocturnes
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