Writing this Piece on a Glass Table with Books Surrounding

I must do my work, but I can’t, for I am surrounded by summer reads. I have Tolkien, Murakami, Bradbury, Carroll, White, etcetera, etcetera. For the past few minutes, I have been writing a story. Not going to help me academically. Spiritually, indeed, but it will not satisfy the expectations dragooned by the amount of cash my parents surrender to the University. No. So I must begin my work, lest I end up desperately clawing my way out of 3s and 4s and 5s. It’s only the second semester of my freshman year, and I have yet to experience a 2, whose presence I gladly derailed in the first and whose persecution I morosely expect in the second.

I suddenly look at my feet, and turn my attention to the carpet. Now I wish the carpet would consume me, just to end this misery of working for something that gives me nil. If it does not give you happiness, it gives you nil.

Off to work.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s