I'm writing because I was reading but there's a girl sitting at a table near the couch I'm sitting on and she has been rambling on and on more than any other human being I've ever encountered. I'm reading The Photographers Eye but I can't help but overhear this obnoxious broad's conversation next to me.
I think I feel a lot more sorry for the person who's having to listen to her. I have yet to hear his/her voice. Maybe they're a mute. I guess I'll never know...
I think I'm becoming some kind of regular at this joint. There are many regulars here. Though they seem much older than I but that's how I always feel. I think I need to start realizing that I'm twenty and not fifteen and maybe I could feel like I relate to atleast half of these individuals.
Oh, and it would be really nice to have a laptop again.
Oh life, you and your little pranks.
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