I have to quit. Quitting is my only option. You can't get away with never looking the students in the eyes again when you're the student counselor. I emailed Mark and Sofia last night before we went to Harry's to tell them I was okay and now I don't even know how to answer them now because they know Betsy.
Though I guess on the other hand . . . they know Betsy.
Yeah. It is. Because after a lot of meditation and soul-searching I've realized that reality is transient, and in the scope of existence a little thing like one drunken post to a public journal system might as well not exist.
And, if the people around me care for my sanity, didn't. Ever.
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Though I guess on the other hand . . . they know Betsy.
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And, if the people around me care for my sanity, didn't. Ever.
How's California?
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What kind of company is this again?
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Sofia has files.
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I think I need to speak to Lamar now.
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I need to call you tomorrow to talk about this, because I had one actual minute there where I seriously thought I might actually be in your closet.
I think I need to go to sleep.
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