cellini's Diaryland Diary

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I just want to go home

It is so fucking weird living in this bubble, that I know is a bubble. I have a house and a world -- a polka castle -- in which I have a sense of agency. But I know that this will be over in four weeks and I have no idea what the fuck I will do when that happens.

I'm gonna go home. Ok, what does that look like? I am so fucked. I could be paid very nicely as a science communications specialist in so many places in the world. But I can't even apply for most of those jobs because I have to go home to Charlottesville. So I am very, very fucked.

Right now, I get to be drunk and feeling all fun and swinging all over the place here in the Polka Castle. And this is great. But imagine how you would personally transliterate that shit into people celebrating anything. Having a blast in one context becomes an alcoholic disaster in another context.

I don't want to be a part of this any longer than necessary. I just want to go home. I've said again and again, that I just want to go home.

1:54 a.m. - 2019-08-26

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