I really don't know what's been going on these past few days, weeks, months. I know where I should be, and that none of this is for fun, but the seeing and the getting there are two entirely different things. I should do all my work and be everywhere I'm supposed to be when I'm supposed to be there. Other than that, not much is asked of me. Why is that so difficult? But that isn't even the pinnacle, the apex...
It seems that some have a drive of sorts, what keeps them going, habitual things done regardless of circumstances. Life just rolls along unabated, effortlessly. I wonder if it's actually as difficult as I see it, inside, for everyone to keep things rolling. Mine is a stutter-stop movement. I've run out of gas and don't know where the nearest station is...
Very little drives me on a daily basis. Sleep, and food, but if I sleep all day, I have no need for food. Cigarettes maybe. Human contact? No. Class obligations? Certainly not. Only the fear of failure keeps me moving occasionally. Otherwise I would be content to sit in my own squalor with nothing but noise and the lack of thought alongside me.
I don't even think much anymore. Funny, that. I wonder where it's all gone. Wait awhile, and I won't wonder anymore. These are indeed strange times...
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