:: a.whisper.in.water ::

:: Monday, November 11, 2002 ::

I haven't slept in only fifteen hours and twenty-three minutes. The problem is that I got out of bed at 4pm, Sunday afternoon. I hear the morning rush hour begin, saw the sun rise and split an overcast night...gorgeous, the way the clouds caught the red...I can't believe sunrises happen everyday. Now, as I work on my spanish midterm, two weeks past the original due date, my assignments dragging behind me like something long-dead of hope, the sky groans with thunder, low, long, and soothing. People shift in their sleep to hit snooze alarms, to take stock of what the hell is going on before they retreat back into the precious early morning...we hold tight to these hours of sleep, and miss the splendour the earth has to offer. Cheers to every jogger I passed while singing the last three songs of Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band and the first of XO, for now I understand your view, if not your world.

Proven pretty conclusively tonight to what little extent I actually work for myself. Forsook all common sense, even past when my job was done. Never was I imbued with real autonomy, merely a strong sense of external obligation. I'm not quite right, and I think I'm about to give up pretending I am. x1290: the number for psych services. Let's see how charming these folks are, shall we?


:: Aziz 7:38 AM [+] ::
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