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2009-11-23 / 2:02 p.m.

My boyfriend had his twenty-first birthday party and I wore shoes with three inch heels that reminded me of lego for some silly reason. A drove to the party with trays and trays of food on my back seat and in the boot and I felt so frustrated at everything, even the music I was listening to. I tried to decorate but the tape I brought wouldn't stick and the little, film banners wouldn't stick with blu-tack so I was left feeling like everything in the whole world was a futile mess, and for what? At what cost?
I calmed pretty quickly as more and more people arrived and it seemed like everybody knew my name, only I didn't know anybody and I felt awkward and weird. I ended up being five feet ten inches and you know something, you know what? I used to be shorter than all of my friends but now, I'm at least three inches taller than the next and I don't know where the height came from because I just feel so damn small sometimes.
I was having fun though, but things were weird. I was drunk and I was inside my own head and I wandered to the bathroom by myself and from inside the stall, I heard a woman tell another woman about how Shane's dad died ten years ago and about how his mother's dying now too and how their whole damn life is just a fucking sob story and I felt like killing her. I mean, who gives a shit? It's the boy's party, we're celebrating here. Nothing else has to matter.

We ended up going back to their place on a bus for twenty people that somehow managed to carry thirty seven of us and on a trip that took a half an hour, I lost my voice completely.
I think I mean that both literally and figuratively.

I don't ever need to speak again.

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