Day bloggin'

Not, this time, on account of any acute pain, but rather a dull mischievous throb. A week was passed ataraxic at home, and i've returned to nichtsberg, wherein my plan to lasciare ogni speranza, cept the mild, unattainable ones such as the hope for the afterlife, but not that, worked well for the first but is grating now we've reached the second day. Little MC shenanigans have been or are expected to be called. There is an item: but I don't want to expose it on account of thereby, tho this is truly ridiculous, deanonymising myself or her: suffice it to say, the possibility that any interest she may have in me is as a means and not an end. Hopefully i'm wrong, but really, what does it matter? I think I am fairly resolved to be going back home in a couple of months to a friendless home, with all my imperfections, having failed at my appointed task of which I wrote those months ago and which this blog has chronicled. One must learn to love o\s. But well: the second most platitudinous platitude is: while I live, I hope.