More than physically tired. It's an effort just holding a page still. I try memorizing the sentences, thinking that'll help me remember the point...then I think just read it...but that doesn't seem right, so I switch back. I don't know how I used to study or take so much on. Just reading...it's hard to even read now.

Life is long. Responsibility shifts from just yourself to those around you when you get past the initial life lesson bullshit. In all that, ideally, subordinates and bosses try to produce something meaningful. Come up with something, create. The more time I spend in college, the more I see how...wrong it is.

Maybe constant social and academic pressure makes for a better, more competitive mind...but there's a breaking point for everyone. Not even weekends off. I can't tell you the last time I had even half a day off. Friends help sometimes but they can be just as much of a chore...and my own private nightmares on occasion. No...something horribly wrong with having work and the rest of your life be in the same place.

I wonder how many weeks I have left. I feel like Martin Sheen in 'Apocalypse Now,' not giving a fuck one way or the other what's happening around me. I just want to survive...to do what...well, drink and break mirrors, I guess.

I wish you could see and appreciate it all, the feeling of your body slowly rotting inside you, catching glimpses as some symptom manifests just below the water, just before it can break through...receeding back down, making you wonder if it was just a dream.

What happened to my beautiful machine. I could make you do anything I wanted...I commanded you...you inspired, you terrified, you even met my expectations once in awhile. I wonder if this is what it's like to get old. Heh, at least I'm not shitting myself yet or getting sadly nostalgic about anal sex with my children.

I'm tired of being tested...by professors to see if I'm worthy...by friends to see if I will push back or can give them what they want...by whatever god, genome or celestial rectal pustule that bred abnormality inside me. I want them, you, and especially It to drop the gladiator act. I give when I goddamn well please and, pushed far enough, you have no idea...and I wonder if it'd feel as good as I think it would...

It's hard enough to live with me in my own skin. Maybe that's why I get the urge to bend someone like they bend me. I know better, but I want a video or audio recording so I can play it...for whenever someone thinks my being a nice or compromising person is grounds for acting like a sycophantic jackass. I think all nice people need a compact portfolio of why others shouldn't fuck with them and always treat them with respect.

Well I guess I can be a warning of sorts. Give people the benefit of the doubt, cut 'em some slack, accept the fact that we're crisco-coated naked mole rats popping through the tunnels of life in search of fun and dry towels, maybe a little moisturizer. Life's too short to prove you're an asshole by proving you're always right, I say.

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