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I love and hate Sundays. Love because they're my quiet days; hate because school in the morning.

I still want to run away to Europe and tell no one any specifics. The ideal of anonymity is extremely appealing for some reason.

I want to write a novel, paint a masterpiece, sculpt something just ******** awesome. I don't strive for any of this. Why? I'm filled with excuses though. If I tried, could I do it? If I tried and failed, how much would that hurt?