Last night featured the worst cocktails I have ever had in my life. You would think that with all the money they supposedly spent on Aruban strippers, they can afford a decent bartender. Jesus wept, the taste was all the way up to seventy-five shades of nasty. Who fucks up something as simple as a screwdriver? Still, I’d call it a success, minus the hangover.

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Fucking hate hate hate what a moody bitch the shower is. One minute it’ll be normal and nice, the next it’s ice cold or scalding hot. I think I have third degree burns all over my arms, fuckin’ hell.

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I only really miss home on days like these, you feel? The three terrors would be loud as hell, and my mother would be fretting around the house while my dad reaches for another drink, cuz who can blame him, and to most people that sounds annoying. Noisy, I guess, but it’s home and I’d kill to be around people who understand me. Everyone here is a little shit.

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The cafeteria was so fucking loud today, think you guys could use your indoors voices next time? Not everyone needs to know about your dumb, vapid existences.

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I had a whack dream that I was Sora from K-H and I got my scrawny lil arse kicked by Sephiroth. Man, if that really were me I’d have sliced his ridiculous hair off and watched him have a meltdown. 

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