My experience of moods and depression and long-term cheerfulness is that they’re predominantly products of behavioural patterns; so, to think of secondary school, if I spent lunch sitting in the sun talking whacked-out surrealism and then the afternoon physics class practising making paper aeroplanes and throwing balls of paper around the lab, three or four days a week, I was happy. If I spent the breaks standing around, coming up with sarcastic jeers and maybe listening to conversation on premiership results for some novelty, general I-hate-the-worldness set in.
On which reasoning, I should get the fuсk out of this city.
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