i think it's fair to say,

that we all screw up.

at some point.

and for a lot of us, a concentrated, simple, clean, easy, and unfun place to screw up is college.

we waste our parents' money. and our own. and our time.

and at 2 in the morning,

my orange tea tastes bitter. and i've stopped making any headway on my studies. not that i have for a while. i'm nailed to my

standard issue

cushioned

real laquered wood

college common room chair.

a little box.

in these last two and a half weeks i'm pushing towards blindness.

cause of blindness: macbook.

cause of macbook: college.

cause of college:

isn't it funny how i'm still the same person i was at seventeen?

and now i'm twenty.

(and as far as i can tell, twenty is the birthday that people give you a lot of sugarfood.)

and i still don't believe in college. and i still don't believe that this waltz of study and sleepless and macbook and blog is what i want to do.

i would like to find, when i wake up, that thursday was taken out of the week.

so i might be spared the hassle of crying in my professor's office and recovering from crying in my professor's office and writing a shitty essay and going to rehearsal and pool-staring and attempting to justify a badly edited video as art....i just want to be in chicago. i just want to go to a state school. join the swim team. get a lobotomy. forget how to ride a bike. ride a bike. tour the midwest. and amsterdam. hide my eyelids in a jawbone when the sun turns to rainbows through smog and airbourne shit. it's fair.

what feels unfair,

is that my name can get spread around like herpes.

from my professor

to my don

to the dean

to god-knows-who

all because of a bad evaluation.

i think.

there's a boy i never want to be like and some moments i'm afraid i might get expelled for the same root cause that he got expelled for.

must not be an emotional wreck.

think of irene.

keep the dead dead.

when we dead awaken, cannot, will not should not happen.

no more weeping in the bathroom,

looking at your hunched figure warped in the reflection of the sink's pipes.

this is where the water happens. how fortunate we are, that water happens.

i was told i have a future today. in a place/area that i become farther removed from daily.

excuse me, hi, yes, i have a number, will call, may i please pick up my future. just tell it to me straight.

do i make it through thursday?

may i go to art school now? is it my turn to live in brooklyn? or the lower east side? does participation count for anything?