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Here 2001-09-02 - 8:23 p.m. Already I need to keep reminding myself not to pile on these assumptions that keep floating through my head. I feel this pressure of despair and hopelessness, somehow wondering if I have to stay up nights again, if I have to get used to 5-6 hours of sleep, if I'll just slip back to what is routine here. It's odd: writing this is inexorbably difficult, even though it flowed readily enough back home. My fingers feel like lead and I want nothing more than to lie down and dream away this place. The room I picked is adequate enough. A bit worse for the wear considering the elephant they must have kept in there part of last year. This place feels so empty. I expected it to be, but it's as though I'm looking afar at others that are even up close. The conversation, the camraderie...it's a heady room of sulfur and cigarette smoke, comforting in its stale, thick grey atmosphere. Not again, dear God please not again...
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