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Laura S.: "so I was telling my friend about you last night. I told her you're totally on point all the time but just, like, absolutely can't get your shit together."

a self-fufilling prophecy I cursed myself with at age sixteen, or the residual aftermath of too much fucking around?

Do I have to give college my hand in marriage? I don't know if I'll ever be ready for that kind of commitment. Isn't it enough to show up for my final classes half an hour late, waving my papers in the air? They're like ten pages longer than they had to be and pretty good, too. I would have been there on time if I'd finished them sooner, or cared a little less.

Maybe I got a little carried away. But truly, I don't know how much I'm really capable of stressing over grades.

For me, It's all about the fucking work I do.

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November 2009

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