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2008-06-25 - 3:53 p.m.

My motto for the past week has apparently been, "What the fuck am I doing?"

I didn't realize that it was until last night, but suddenly I recalled how many times I said it. Once looking in the mirror, head shaking and knuckles clenching the counter. Once, wearing just a pair of boxers, standing on the back patio staring at the sky for well over twenty-three minutes.

It took me four hours on Sunday to get far enough away to suit my purposes, five existential seconds to shout, and then four hours to get back.

And then last night, chanting this mantra as I go from room to room, trying to make as narrow an escape as possible. Make sure they know you're there, make sure they give chase, make sure you get away. I'm trying to make my heart explode before it's too late.

One room, I stop and just start giggling about this phrase, realizing how common it is for me.

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