My Old Yearbooks Were Clearly Suicidal and I Happily Assisted
Plum Bananas
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Interestingly, I feel almost the same except for the fact that I lost my yearbook at 19. I wish I could go back and see it to give me clues as to why I am so pessimistic these days. I’m sure all I’d find is pictures of an awkward violin playing boy with a bandana, perm Mohawk, and parachute pants. Because that’s what I thought was cool back then of course.