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The sistercreature has returned to her regularly scheduled habitat. She didn’t say goodbye. Should I be bothered? I’m not particularly, but I feel like I should be.

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Around 2am, I realized I was frakkin hungry and needed actual dinner, but I was sick of the same 4 leftover stew-type substances I’ve been living off the plast* few weeks, so I went scavenging for something different.

I found some frozen meatballs which looked tasty, and a thing leftover macaroni and cheese, which turned out to be the gross pre-packaged overly-creamy-but-completely-devoid-of-flavor kind, but I already had it warmed up, so I dumped some salsa on it and ate it with the meatballs as a slightly bizarre but inoffensive approximation of pasta.

*Plast = when my brain combines “past” and “last” and likes it that way cause they mean the same thing in this context.

_ …. .. …   .. …   __ ___ ._. … .   _._. ___ _.. . __..__   _… .._ _ _.__ ___ .._   _._ _. ___ .__ ._._._

Why is my room so freezy? Bedtime, yes?

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