Well, here we are. "Happy birthday Pandora," indeed.
Even with pausing in between writing lines of this, I'm annoyed. In the time between me writing that and reblogging some resources on Tumblr, idiot neighbor on the right is blaring music. Shut up.
You know, I don't care about a lot of things.
What's the point of getting worked up? What's the point of anything, really?
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