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July 21/2000

...It's a perfect plan, really. No note. Nothing. I'll walk out at night with my vodka and aspirin. Back to the track. Get drunk. Get poisoned. Lay down and sleep. Sleep like there's no tomorrow. Because there isn't. No worriye. No responsibilities. Nothing. I want nothing, even though I have nothing. Can't appreciate this nothing, take it away. There's vodka by the table. Aspirin in the cabinet. And a train that goes by every night in my sleep.