Go on your own, let the fluorescent light of the train carriage wash you out. convince yourself you actually like the taste of beer. conserve your phone battery in case you miss the last bus. hold your friends' hands; speak loudly and at length about nothing. worry about your ride home later. you can finally sing those songs of longing for childhood's wasted hours, for the perennial light of your old bedroom, of the sand slipping through the hourglass.

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