The inner machinations of a middle-class peasant.

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the tales we tell define who we are.

for basically the last 10 years or so i have gotten home late on fridays. it’s not something that i have ever really been bothered by. i suppose i could be spending them in better or different ways. but it may have not been any better if I tried.

i worry that some of these posts may seem too silly or too serious. but i think that’s a good representation of who i am as a person.

i think we all can be either way.

but it really doesn’t matter, either way.

please talk to me.