please, mom. i beg you. i'd rather be one of those hobos sleeping on the park bench outside aotea centre, freeze myass off ,get gangrene in my toes and constantly beg people for food and money than sleep in that room for the next ten months.
it's not that bad. but it's the first time i've felt so creeped out about something.
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spm results. D=
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two pages of art instead of the usual one this weekend. Lost the brush i've been working with. Art shop closed on the weekends.
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Retarded indian shouting the name hatim every moment.
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having to sleep in that room.
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D=
help!
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