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There comes a point where everyone, even the people you think are self-controlled organisational freaks, decide to stick their face into the bedroom carpet and cry.

That’s the kind of thing that happens, even though your last 3 essays got high marks, even though you are meant to be focusing on your first showings for Contemporary Performance and Directing, even though life holds much more daunting issues, that is what happens, when you come to that awkward realisation that you have not moved on, and he has a new girlfriend.

Reiteration, for purposes of recommitting: FUCK BOYS.

I’m going to start a blog dare. I dare this universe, filled with too many people far inferior to my awesomeness, to create someone worthy of my attention.
Until then, fuck boys, fuck girls, fuck the dating scene, fuck relationships, fuck every stupid word I believed – I am a cynical, unbelieving, angry woman, and I say FUCK YOU to the possibility of me having a decent relationship.

The End.

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