Reading over some of my past entries, I've realized that I'm quite self-absorbed and have a knack for complaining.
In my heart of hearts, I truly believe that most people are in fact just so, and the distinction between you and me lies in my transparency; I tend revel just a bit more in my Harry Potter-esque angst whereas others seemed ashamed. My discontent flourishes under both duress and relief, the mark of a true malcontent, question mark. The source of my stress, in which case is pretty much everything, proliferates for no good reason other than to stem boredom and trouble my sleep.
Yes, yes. What am I saying.
Take complainers seriously,
for when the complaints are valid,
it's not thanklessness,
but a crude desire for better.
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