Twenty five.

I’m in bed. There’s a lizard in my room. Sorta very creepy.

I’m writing on my iPhone. It was a gift. Extravagant gift I know. Still haven’t figured out how to get an Apple ID without a credit card since I don’t live in a country where App Store purchases are available yet.

I have had sensitive teeth for less than a month and wow is it deteriorating very fast. I used to love strawberries. Dammit.

Statistics exam tomorrow, I don’t think there could be a more boring subject. Except maybe chemistry. Hated that, so glad I got rid of it.

I have this friend who considers me his best friend but he is probably not even in my top five. I mean I love him, no problem there but I am not really that close to him. And I haven’t really done anything to deserve the best friend title. It’s only because he has no other friends. He is a major workaholic with 50 different mental disorders. In not being offensive, he really does have horrible mental health and he honestly worsens it with his loner workaholic antics. Horrible physical health too, and that is definitely his own fault. Improving thought. He quit smoking a few months ago, so that’s good. He’s been working out as well. Anways, about the friendship. As glad as I am to be able to provide company to someone who really needs it, I feel kinda guilty about the onesidesness of it. I know it isn’t my fault per se, and that he knows he isn’t my best friend. But my relationship with guilt was never rational.

I have an exam tomorrow. It’s 4am here. So I should probably sleep.

These guys omg


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