I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t have time for this. I don’t want to go into specifics, but it is a late hour; I have isolated myself into a cubicle in the hopes of being more “productive,” no sign of life in sight. My fingers hurt from typing, eyes sore from staring; desolate coffee cup innocently gazing at me as I will it to refill itself and I’m angry when it does not perform the task. So instead it remains empty from its last refill, the refill where I actually took myself out of this chair and physically got the coffee myself. I’m just tired, really tired. Who’s with me?
And now I’m lying in bed; it’s more comfortable here, but harder to concentrate, harder to think over the alluring thoughts of sleep. It’s weighing down on me, calling my name, but I want it to shut up. Does it not understand how much I have to do? Because I really have so much to do, so so much to do. I’m just so comfortable. My pillow is placed just right and my blanket is sprawled wonderfully across me. I can’t help but think is this what its come to? How did I get here?
And now I’m sitting in class but I didn’t get enough sleep the night before/ didn’t complete my work for this class/ am not following and I’m nervous. I’m afraid the teacher will call on me because I didn’t do the reading/write the essay/ study the notes. Honestly which class am I in right now? What’s the work? Anybody know what work we have today? I didn’t do it though. Is the teacher staring at me? Can she tell I’m guilty? Can she read between the lines on my brow that I didn’t do the work and I don’t really ever do the work and maybe I don’t really belong in this class/this school/ this world?
It’s time to eat something and I have to go find something to eat. Yet I have so much to eat because I was forced to be on this meal plan. I think it’s a scam for my money; the scam works though because I gave them my money and now they have it and I don’t. So I’ll go get something to eat because I paid a lot of damn money so that I could have a meal. Of course I always try to take all the apples back with me. Sometimes I get in trouble for that, but didn’t I pay for all these apples? Aren’t they all mine? Can they really yell at me for taking my apples? I don’t think that’s legal. I should sue.
Rambling, this is all just rambling. My mind is turning to a mush, but sometimes it’s a happy mush. Who’s with me?