Day 1: Snow covers the ground. It blankets the earth cold, and perfect. It suffocates the soft darkened soil that is soon yet to be exposed by the southern sun. Winter Solos has come, finally. I can now officially mark my calender with a singal tack, signifying my completion of the previous year. It is a joyous accomplishment at wish I ought to celebrate yet can not. This glass of cheap vodka goes out to my own personal selfish survilal. I have nothing to talk about. End Dairy.
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