I would normally wake up with a slight worry towards undisclosed affairs in the time to come.
The moment I recognise that I've returned to slow consciousness reckons perpetual music from my stereo I had put on for the alarm set, careless noises my housemates' making, sunlight penetrating a close, or my guilt about impotence in myself is always determined to possess its existence.
Thanks for calling. You know we are at big hours difference.
I don't care what you've been doing and will do, I am sorry.
Please don't tell me things I didn't ask and you'd better not ask me things you won't ever understand. You couldn't see anything.
Ah, I don't like this. I doubt it.
You wander around out of hand.
I say I'm quite happy with some nice new music I discovered recently, and and I'm waiting for books I've ordered.
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