Wednesday, September 11, 1991

I'm still here. More or less.

When I get up tomorrow, I'll be going to two different places job hunting. I really need to get out of here. Loretta acts as if she resents me being here. She has given me hell about this room. She has been, generally, an asshole.

I just want to get out. I'm tired of this place already. I don't feel like answering to these people any longer. I'm 26 years old. I don't need this shit.

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