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January 25, 2008
Itís now that I begin to think. The cursor twitches nervously in front of me and Iím stunned stupid in its gaze. Iím convinced this is all some awful punishment, I say out loud to no one, for stepping on ant hills as a child or picking my nose in public. The wind blows wickedly outside. I am anxious and awake and listening to its menacing whistle. Thereís a free counseling center at my University. Maybe it wouldnít hurt me to go, though realistically it probably would. Truth hurts, but Iím due for a dose. I feel ungrateful and crass.