Unaware

Unawareness

Unreliability

Bias

Misunderstanding

Misrepresentation

Mistakes

Regrets

Narration

Is

A

Lie

Don’t believe the stories.

Nothing good ever came of…

Netflix

Shoes that don’t fit

Hole in your socks

A dead lightbulb

Empty chapstick containers

Candy wrappers

Energy drinks

Shoe polish

Cigarettes

Sporks

I can’t

I can’t

I won’t

I can’t

I must

I can’t

I will

I can

It’ll hurt.

“Good job, Neon.  My lovely neon child.”

Neon expands to the limits available, but is inert.

My dad has taken to calling me his “neon child” because of my homework habits — I’ll take every minute they give me.  If I have three days to write a paper, I’ll take three days.  If they give me three hours, I’ll take three hours, and the two products will be roughly the same quality.

Apparently he discussed hydrogen sulfide as well, but decided neon was a nicer comparison, because H₂S is toxic and stinky.

I think I’m going to go down to the track to tell them I’m done. 

No sleep.  I’m fine right now, but I’ll be fairly miserable later. 

I got the paper in on time!

I finished it 7 minutes before class and walked quickly back to my squadron to print it.  I don’t run, because I don’t like to look stupid. And got to class on time-ish before she collected them.

My eyes hurt.

I wrote some bad poetry and wanted to send it to you last night (text) but I didn’t want to wake you up.  It’s exceptionally bad, even for my bad days.  It’s about papers.

I have to turn in my Aero project stupid dumb thing piece of crap assignment worksheet spreadsheet glider junk that I don’t want to do this afternoon by COB. 

And then I have to finish reading a book and write a paper.

And sometime in my life I will sleep.

This isn’t a poem, I just felt like putting it on a bunch of different lines.

You’re the best. Except my Dad’s still better at existing because no one can beat him.

Except your dad, maybe, because he seems pretty cool, too. 

I know that you’re not supposed to capitalize ‘dad’ when there is a possessive in front of it, but I don’t feel like fixing it.  Plus my dad’s awesome so I’ll leave it.

I’ll send you the bad poetry and you’ll roll your eyes or something.  Maybe you won’t roll your eyes.  That’s what I did to my mom in middle school and apparently have recently taken up again because it’s a fantastic habit to have.

Déjà vu

Not that this would ever have happened before.

I must be tired.

Eyem going to work ahn Arrow nao.

All so, eye halve uh Chinese Aural exam tumahrrah.

This sucks.

I no longer love learning.

The joy is gone.

also, I can no longer write. clearly. and when people say things to me I just look at them because I don’t know what they said.  I don’t understand anything.  But I’m not confused because that implies trying to understand. so I’m sitting like a rock except that I’m shaking because I didn’t sleep and I had way more caffeine than should be legal. I’m so glad I’m not mormon or I’d have to suffer through this without caffeine and I’d get in trouble for missing class. but I’m capitalizing my “I”s still, so I apparently still have some self-respect.

One paper down, 3 to go.

One paper, two paper, three paper, four!

One coffee, two coffee, three coffee, four! (and five and six and seven)

One Monster, two Monster, three Monster, four!

One hour, two hour, three hour sleep! (just kidding, zero hours)

My poetry will get better after finals.

It’s hard to have feelings when my brain can hardly handle words.  Because I think in words and sometimes even feel in words.  The words are going, so is the feeling. Sorry I’m not interested, baby, not your fault.  One. Week. Left.

SpaghettiOs coffee coffee coffee panic

12 pages due tomorrow.