"Later the same day..."
I feel kinda like I'm inside my impenetrable transparent blue shell again. Sort of hiding, sort of trapped. Like no one can see me, like I'm eavesdropping on everyone, because I can't do otherwise, I can't escape. Maybe it's just a result of tiredness.
You've got the most unbelievable blue eyes I've ever seen...
But I can't sleep.
Seems like everyone's achieving something except me, everyone's got a goal in the reasonably near future, everyone's got a job or something productive. Look at me... fucking philosophy. I love philosophizing as an art, but I feel so... useless. Aimless. Myth of Sysiphus- unending and pointless toil. That's what it feels like for now. I want to change people! Or no, I don't want to change people... I want to give people who want to the incentive to change themselves. There.
Ya gotta keep'em separated...
I really need a massage. Sore as hell from not moving yesterday. Neck hurts like a bugger. Kinda hungry, but there's nothing worth eating and I don't feel like getting dressed to go to Burwash. Feel like such a slob. But don't care enough to do anything about it.
Tie your own rope, tie your own rope, tie your own HEY!
Feel cold. Inside and out. Definite sign or tiredness. Need human-warmth. Only Mike's studying and I don't want to bug him, and there's no one else around here worth hugging who has the time. I want my park. And my walkman. Which Michelle has.
We're stuck inside our own machine... apparitions...
Hafta read stupid "Tit-Coq" (Andrew can't stop laughing about that title, but he doesn't speak much french, despite having gone to vanier...). Eh. Usual exam prep- 1st and last sentence of every paragraph. I think it's a play tho. Haven't even opened the book, which is Karen's. My god. This isn't me. I don't want to do this. I want to curl up inside my transparent blue shell and ignore all the hammering, thumping and shouting of everyone, all of you who are trying to get in and make me real. I'm sorry.
Sweet child o' mine...
Readin'
Listenin' to
Thinkin' about