I'm torn, simply. On the one hand I wake up screaming at the imaginary people invading my room, on the other hand I
And that's just it.
I have no other hand that I know of. I've heard second years say, "Remember ____ at frosh? He/She was insane!" and I already know that to a certain percentage of this school, that's me. I've spent one night at my own rez in the past 6 days, but there are very few people I've met that I'd spend any time with later. While I should have been meeting people similar to myself, I was...perverting myself to some ideal that I have never ascribed to in the past, and with luck never again in the future.
(Right here, I got up and cooked myself some eggs and hashbrowns, grabbed some cereal and yogourt, and broke my fast in style)
And now I'm back, completely changed from something simple, wonderful, food. Overwhelming hope...music is so important to me, it can cheer me up in a second.
"Remember cuddles in the kitchen, yeah to get things off the ground..."
In conclusion, I have an overwhelming urge to write extremely long letters, but only so I can get extremely long replies: full of daily mundanities, petty problems, and other bullshit that is the stuff of life. The faint, confused pulse of the western world.
2 comments:
Well said! It's nice to know you too, are human.
I always hated small talk, but among friends, it seems like the small talk is what links us together and to ourselves... one tiny strand at a time so it's as a strong cord "of thousands of strands".
Would you write even moi?
Post a Comment