How To Be Holy In 25 Minutes
I'm lounging and awaiting algebra class. I slept last night, but I didn't really sleep. I listened, but I didn't hear. Last night. Why is it that my life seems to seem more like a Joyce novel on a daily basis? SHIT FUCK GOD DAMN. Tourettes, sorry. Hayden is soothing, in his mellow complacency, yet yearning for the same things as I. Beer is good. Rum is good. Pudding is good. And I am not. I've a headache and a desire for food, but no will to try to fix either. May haps I'll grab a snickers as I'm leaving. I've been in this chair too long. I've been in this life too long, what am I talking about? "Shouldn't the waiting hold something at the end? Some mystical, sensual, overwhelming enlightenment?"
"No, just algebra."
"What the hell? Just algebra?"
Just algebra.
"So I guess that's it then?"
"Depends."
I hate it when the voice in my head gets all philosophical. Like when I ask why and it replys "Why not?" Kinda like Ben, just asking why not. Not as if I would truely adopt that life philosophy. I'm so detained by myself it's not even funny.
*chuckle*
Here ya go, something new to study. I know you will.
-one love.
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