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| journal:014_three_weeks_out [2026/03/07 15:35] – created harryh | journal:014_three_weeks_out [2026/03/07 19:46] (current) – harryh | ||
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| ====== Entry — Age 17, three weeks out ====== | ====== Entry — Age 17, three weeks out ====== | ||
| //Somewhere away from the home they'd lived in for years.// | //Somewhere away from the home they'd lived in for years.// | ||
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| I slept in a hostel last night. Eight people in the room, six of whom snored. I slept better than I have in months. | I slept in a hostel last night. Eight people in the room, six of whom snored. I slept better than I have in months. | ||
| - | The power is different out here. Louder, somehow. This morning I reached | + | This morning I went to use the bathroom and stopped in the doorway for a moment because I didn't immediately recognise the person in the mirror. |
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| + | My hair was shorter. Darker. I've been watching it in mirrors for a week and it's been doing something — shifting slightly at the edges, the colour not quite consistent depending on the light. Last night I had gone to sleep certain it was the same hair I'd always had. This morning | ||
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| + | I stood there for a long time. I touched it. It felt like hair. I looked at my hands and they looked like my hands, and then for a moment they didn' | ||
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| + | I don't have an explanation for this. I've been running through them and I don't have one. | ||
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| + | And then, on the way back to the bunk to get my boots, | ||
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| + | So. Two things, this morning, in a hostel bathroom. Two things the house never let happen. | ||
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| + | The power is different out here. Louder, somehow. I thought the problem was me — the ceiling I kept hitting, the pencil that wouldn' | ||
| - | It's like — all this time I thought the problem was me. The ceiling I kept hitting. The pencil | + | I think that might be true in more than one direction. |
| - | //I don't know if that' | + | //I don't know what I am yet. I don't know if that' |