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Cake day: August 16th, 2024

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  • Camus’ The Stranger really spoke to me. It sort of felt like it described me in ways that I hadn’t known until I read the story.

    Mostly, I could tell, I made him feel uncomfortable. He didn’t understand me, and he was sort of holding it against me. I felt the urge to reassure him that I was like everybody else, just like everybody else. But really there wasn’t much point, and I gave up the idea out of laziness.

    At that time, I often thought that if I had had to live in the trunk of a dead tree, with nothing to do but look up at the sky flowing overhead, little by little I would have gotten used to it.

    In that night alive with signs and stars, I opened myself to the gentle indifference of the world. Finding it so much like myself–like a brother, really–I felt that I had been happy and that I was happy again.