Anyway…

Just thinking about winter in San Diego sends my head into a tizzy and makes my stomach flutter and me feel like I’m going to throw up. I miss it so much.

For a while, a good long while, I loathed myself and berated myself for wanting to go back to CA even if it is actually home for me. but why not, you know? everyone wants to run away to California. All young people anyway. [I’m exaggerating.] For the adventure, for the freedom, for… California. I shouldn’t care if so many other people want the same thing I do, because California represents something different for me than it does for them. It represents something different for everyone.

…I got off on this mental tangent thinking about how much I hate english classes and writing essays where I make stuff up about symbolism in a work of fiction and that I can’t even just make stuff up, I have to find someone more credible who made up something similar to the thing I made up and now I am just SO ANGRY.

I don’t think there’s any piece of assigned work worse than writing a goddamn english paper.

I’d rather write an actual research paper because it’s about actual evidence that was actually found by actual people through actual experiments or at least actual observations rather than looking for works by other people who made up a bunch of stuff about this story that was completely made up it’s just so frustratingly pointless

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