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About Los Angeles

Anyway, I’m vibin’, tryna keep it smooth. “Love’s a crapshoot,” like in the movie, right? You roll the dice with these encounters. Some nights you score, some nights you’re broke and mad. I ain’t judgin’—live how you live, ya know? Once found this girl who sang gospel on Sundays—prostitute by night. Blew my damn mind! Hypocrisy? Nah, just survival, dogg.

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Try reaching out to the dean of your department or talking to an adviser in the student counseling services to find the help you're looking for.

Oh, and let me not forget the streets! Ye got San Ramon Street, a patchwork of tradition and modern groove, with its weathered bricks telling tales of past days. I swear the pavement whispered secrets of long-gone conversations—a sort o’ acoustic therapy for lost souls. Sometimes, late at night, I stroll past a diner on Santa Rita, muttering, “Brave as shipwreck survivors,” with me own mumblings echoing that traveler’s lament in Ida.

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