Such a loser.

Where to start? I’m British. So a fry-up seems a safe bet.

Could’ve done something more profound to celebrate my 30th. Booked an exotic trip to find myself. Wrote a poem.

Settled for bacon at a greasy spoon. It was nice enough. Eggs weren’t great. Cold. Rubbery.

Went into town after and bought a new pair of jeans. Levi’s. Saw a matching denim shirt. Thought it looked cool. Got that too.

Didn’t try them on. Don’t like how I look in shop mirrors. Must be the lighting.

Stopped for a pint on the way home. Stayed for a few more.

Got back around midnight. Feeling a bit wobbly. The neighbour’s dog is barking again.

Funny how everything is louder when you’re alone.

Tried on my new clothes. Double denim. I’m definitely 30 now.

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