A whole lot of writing for having nothing to say.

I was going to go home, I really was, but then I walked through campus and I just couldn’t bring myself to get in my car and go to my house. I don’t know if it’s the fact that I’m going home to do nothing for the rest of the evening except study and case briefs or if I just can’t stand to be confined to the small space that is the Batmobile now. It’s something though, that’s for sure. I know what’s coming. I can feel it, I’ve felt it before, in the last few weeks, but it never came. Well, it had moments, little ones, but they faded off. Which should have been my first clue that something unusual was going on because that doesn’t typically happen unless what’s coming is going to be worse than usual. False alarms passed with the time and I forgot about, until now. Now I know it’s not a fake out, now I know it’s really coming and I’m not sure that I feel like dealing with it today.

I’m extremely pissed off. There’s no reason for it, nothing happened, but fuck it if I don’t really want to punch something. So, I came to the library and grabbed a Mac. Writing is always preferred to shattering my already abused knuckles, but I’m not sure what to write. I’m not sure where this sudden desire for a brawl came from, but it must have come from somewhere. When I was sitting in that classroom upstairs I didn’t want to hit anything, I wanted to kill myself a bit, but just to keep from having to listen for second longer. Once I was free that feeling kind of went away.

I think lying being second nature is beginning to come back to me, I’m thinking that might be a good thing. How are you? I’m alright. How was school? It was alright. Anything interesting happen today? Nah, you know just another day. What’s the truth? How are you? I’m making it. How was school? It was alright in places, boring as fuck in others, and if I have to listen to that professor again I might just shoot myself in the face to avoid it. Anything interesting happen today? Well, I met a drug dealer on accident. I have no idea how I get myself into these things. Hm, not a conversation I really want to be having with most people. It was alright, I’m always alright, nothing, not really. Those are the answers I’m going with.

You know what? Fuck it. I’m too tired to even bother caring about what other people think today. Most of them are running around irritating the living shit out of me anyway, so why bother? I don’t have the energy for appearances. Now, normally this would mean it was time to go off the radar before I worried someone or pissed someone off, but I don’t have the energy to deal with that either. Let people worry, I guess. There’s nothing to worry about. I just got through telling Katie that, but I don’t think she much believed me. Most people won’t when you smell like a back alley bar at four in the afternoon. I probably should have taken a shower before I came to class.

I keep typing about things that just don’t really seem to connect, but I feel like there’s something there that I’m trying to say and just can’t quite figure out what it is to say it. So I keep spewing the first things that come to my mind and hoping that it’ll quiet here shortly so that I can go the fuck home. I don’t want to be on campus. I don’t know why in the hell I’m still here. I also don’t know why I keep swearing for absolutely no goddamn reason, but I suppose that’s not really all that unusual for me.

I found some new cigarettes while investigating cheap smoking at Speedway last night. They are supposed to be a blend of a menthol and a red, they are Marlboro, which means that for once I’m not smoking something that taste like death and asshole. They’re Blend No. 54. Not half bad for a cigarette that can’t decide if it’s mentholated or not.

Alright, alright, whatever it is that I’m looking for that I need to say is apparently not going to come to me on the first floor of the library. It must be outside somewhere, because that’s where this whole mess started in the first place. I was doing fine until I walked across campus. Everything was level until I started down the stairs and then and then and then. I have no idea what happened and then. There is no answer to that question, there is no end to that sentence, there is no period after some words that actually makes sense. Alright, alright, it just needs to slow down is all. Just breathe and it’s going to be alright. No, no, no, you see, that works for panic attack, that does not work for this. Nothing works for this, you need to calm down, you need to just let it go. You need to chill. the. fuck. out. Right now. Okay.

Okay. Welcome back to Earth, space cadet. It’s cold in here, that’s good. You can feel that right? Yes, yes, I can. That’s good. This keyboard is practically flat, it’s weird, but I kind of like it. The mouse is attached to it, it’s on the left. This is a left-handed computer. The computer beside me has the mouse on the right. It is a right-handed computer. Why does that matter? I’m really not sure, but it’s interesting that this is the only left hand computer in this entire row. I think that they are discriminating against left-handed people. What am I supposed to be doing? I was supposed to let Rena make those copies from that book. Did I do that? I don’t think that I did that. I wonder if she called. She might have. I don’t know what I did with my phone. It’s in my book bag somewhere. I don’t feel like digging it out to look. So, I won’t. She can make the copies tomorrow. That’ll work.

I need to make an agenda for the LAE meeting tomorrow. I need to do that this evening before it gets so late that I decide “Fuck it, I’ll wing it” because I really shouldn’t be doing that. I have responsibilities. I need to do that when I get home, while I’m thinking about it. I think it’s on my list beside my computer. If not I’ll add it, then I won’t forget to do it.

It’s supposed to rain tomorrow, I think. Tomorrow morning, it’s supposed to rain. Then I don’t think it’s supposed to rain anymore. I don’t think it’s supposed to rain anymore until the weekend and then next week. Next week it’s supposed to rain. I like it when it rains. I really wish that it would storm for week solid. That would be wonderful.

It’s seven o’clock now. I should be home by now, but I’m not. I’m here, in the library, on the first floor, on this Mac, trying to figure out what in the world tackled me down the stairs in front of Morrow Stacks. I’m still not sure why it picked there. There is an odd place to pick.

Okay. I need to go home. This is going to have to wait a half hour. I think it can wait that long. It’s just thirty minutes. In thirty minutes I should be at home and then I can think again. Then I can write again and I can figure out what it is I’m trying to say, because I’m clearly not going to figure it out here. Alright.

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