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11:30 a.m. & Thursday, Sept. 25, 2003

I feel like a blank sheet of paper. A blank sheet of paper with a bad case of nausea.

I don't know what to do but keep moving forward. I want to just stop, but the thought of having to explain why I'm stopping is worse than just continuing. I also want to go and cry in the bathroom, but people keep walking in on me.

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