/holding a photo album, turning to the laptop/
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I don't get out. I don't know anyone. All I ever do is mix music, play on my expensive laptop and draw up new tattoos. And watch. He doesn't see me, but I see him. Wait, I take that back. I watched him run away after he spotted me when I first arrived. That hurt me more than anyone will ever know.
/goes to turn up music, slides computer chair in front of my laptop/
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Well, well. I have arrived. No matter how many people's asses I kicked, no matter how many tattoos I get, no matter how many threats I spew at my parents, I still have to make them look good, oops, I mean proud at the end of the day. My folks must really hate me; they send me to this cookie cutter university to 'straighten out'. Eh. I guess it's better than jail. I know someone here from back home, one of my old best friends actually, but I wonder if he turned into a bitch ass like my brother, going to this institution of higher learning. I guess we'll see.
/looks at a picture of two young boys on my shelf, then at a picture of a small family. sneers and clicks the update button/