Well. Here I am. Skipping chemistry again. I was really close to going this time. I have been skipping a lot of classes lately. There have been times when I was up early enough to go to morning classes, and got to the school, to the door even, and my brain says this big ole ‘fuck you’ and I go and do something else. I know that school isn’t supposed to be fun. But I see enough of the other people getting some type of fulfillment, gratification or enjoyment out of what they do, (and I’m not using chem as an example, I’m speaking of the whole collegiate experience). In a strictly pragmatic sense, which is the dialectical side of my brain I employ from time to time to keep me miserable, I’m too close to the end of school to stop now. I also don’t have the money to continue on if and when the loans stop from my parents, though I was never particularly happy about those funds to begin with. I’m eternally grateful, but that also makes me feel beholding to them to follow through on something I may not even want to do. I don’t know what I want out of life. I don’t know that anybody really does. But then I see people getting off their asses and working hard and getting what they want and being productive members of society with something for themselves to show for it. Part of me want to believe that they’re faking it, but unfortunately, that’s probably also the bitter, spiteful part of me that *wants* to believe that nobody has their shit together, because if everyone else does then those of us that don’t are pretty few and far between, read: lonely. Nobody I know has their life in order yet. I’m young. I know that. But when I was little I had a certain vision of high school, as told to me by Saved by the Bell, and life turned out pretty much that way, though I overdramatsized it at the time. Then in high school I had an idea of what college would be like and so far none of it has even come close. Yes. I’m skipping class. It’s my decision. It’s a poor decision. I make a lot of poor decisions. I quit smoking pot only to start drinking pretty heavily. Friends tell me that I need a girl, as if that were a solution, when in reality it would most likely further complicate the situation, and in any case it couldn’t make it any better. What I need is one of those personal assistants, or my very own motivational speaker. Or, and wouldn’t it be great if life turned out *this* way; all the answers laid out for me on a neat little grid. Hell, I’d even take Mapquest directions over this. I look back on the years I’ve spent here, and maybe its the city, or the weather, or the work, or my general restless character, but I know that I’m not content when the happiest hours I ever found were making sandwiches for the unappreciative and non-tipping masses.
Maybe I really want to settle into obscurity.