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February 21st, 1978
Ruins. A roach infested apartment cluttered with beer cans and dirty clothes and trash bags overflowing. Kitchen littered with empty cat food cans. Stench from the refrigerator. Bedroom door permanently closed with a broken window covered in Saran Wrap.
Tomorrow I will begin my 27th year on earth.
Tonight after work, I was lying on the sofa watching the news amid my beer cans and ash trays when I saw Guy being interviewed on national television. I watched in amazement at this wonderful man that I was having an affair with a few months ago– a man who brought me champagne and told me that he loved me. I have not heard from him in months.
So, I continue to drink beer and float in and out of reality and I know that my consciousness will not change until I have left this dreadful apartment.