Sunday, November 9, 2014


Cereal-eating morning face yum yum.

Fuad is the name my friends and I have designed to express our contempt over subject of choice. In this case, birthdays.

Yesterday I turned 19, which is not only old, but unromantic, unspectacular, uncool, uneverything.

Not only that, but it fell on a Saturday -a Saturday in the midst of IB exams, where half of my best friends weren't in Santiago because of some seminar or whatever, and the other half were not going out because of said exams.

And in spite of all the Saturdayishness, I had a test that morning.

So, in summary, I cried all morning long.

But in the evening my parents took me to a smallish restaurant with my bestish friend and I ordered exoticish food and we laughed and it was nice and I sort of forgot that it was my birthday and I liked it.

Morale: The worse you can be is alone. People actually have the tendency to make you happy. People that love you, anyways.

happy birthday to me

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