I’ve decided I’m never going home.
Well–to be fair–I’ve also decided that I am the firm yet benevolent dictator of several small, tropical island nations, and that Michael Jackson will stand up in court on the day of his sentencing and unzip his face and remove that hideous mask, revealing himself to be a glowing, forked-tongue alien underneath. So my decisions are admirable and all, but not necessarily, you know, true.
Details.
Anyway, I am vastly enjoying my escape from reality. Though I cannot decide if the things that make me happy indicate that I am easily pleased (shut up) or that I need help.
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