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A bit of Songbird is up over at the briar patch. Rough draft stuff, needs to be reworked, but I think I know where it's going. My head is pounding, my eyes are red, my throat feels like I've been gargling steel wool.
I feel... I feel like maybe I've been a bit too nice to Person A. I haven't spent enough time talking to Person B or Person C, and although I've talked with Person D, it's been meaningless flurries, nothing useful. Insert Tab A into Slot B. Seriously, my life reads like an instruction manual for some piece of machinery I don't actually own. I'm starting to get twitchy.
Frustration. Stress. Something's got to give.
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