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August 14, 2003
It’s one of those days where I know I’ll either die soon, or live the life of a hermit. I woke up with the feeling no one cares about me. No one. No one is “for real” in the since that they would put as much on the line for you as you would for them. No one. There is a song by B. B. King or some blues star that goes “Nobody loves me but my mother. And she could be jiving too”. That’s me today. Everyone wants something from me. And I’ve got nothing left to give. Empty.