http://news-service.stanford.edu/news/2005/june15/jobs-061505
http://www.economist.com/printedition/displayStory.cfm?Story_ID=4054912
As I was reading, I suddenly felt that I was doing something wrong. I wasn't reading for insight or knowledge about another person's life. I was reading vindictively and viciously, I was reading to gossip and bitch. And it made me feel deflated. Because the writing was so poignant about her life, it was just an ordinary girl's misgivings about life. She was no longer ____, she was just a girl. So she's not exactly the stellar example of a "friend" but she didn't do anything to me. You can't sue people for trying to live, whether she lives like me or not. Whether she is a poseur or not. Whether her problems are real or not, she didn't do anything to ME so how can I be such an awful person about it. She had a bad patch, she screamed abit and now I'm being awful. WE don't even talk. I'm such a bitch, that I cannot even let go after so long.
And what do I have to gain? To know about her life, what the fuck is wrong with me?
She's moved on.. Why are we such bitches?
Why?
The worst part is I know I fucking won't stop reading.
What the hell is wrong with me?
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