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October 6th, 2003

I'm more dissatisfied today than I've been in a while. I guess I shouldn't go five days without my antidepressant, it makes me want to quit my job. Or maybe that's because I hate my job. I'm sure it's one or the other. But at least my fucked up insurance company doubled my prescription co-pay, I was hoping one day I would be able to spend $120 a month on drugs even though I supposedly have mother fucking insurance.

In any case, four hours is NEVER the right amount of sleep to get in a night. There's your mental note for the day.

I love being broke. I love it so much because it's my home. It's my warm blanky. It's all I've ever known. Being fucking broke is my breast milk!! Being fucking broke is truly my underground tornado shelter. If I had money it would be like meeting a celebrity I don't give a shit about; I wouldn't know what the fuck to do.

Big house, king size bed that's HELLA soft, a gaggle of cars, mutha fuckin baddest assededest home theater on the block, and all the sleep I wanted, when I wanted it.
Okay, so maybe I have an idea what I'd do.

Someone share with me the magic formula to get me the fuck out of here.

Oct. 6th, 2003

I find it interesting that I only get acid reflux during the week.