Another Week and I Would Have Defenestrated Myself...Even If I Am on the First Floor
The time has come, so I shall go
And see this place no more.
At least for a week
(Though actually less)
For then I shall have to come back.
But I'll take this time
And make it dear
And try not to bitch and to moan
Fuck all that "love thee, Centre dear"
Cuz damn it, I'm going home!
It's not a perfect poem, if it's even a poem at all, but I only have twenty minutes 'till class, so it will have to do cuz I will have nooo more time for any updates today! I'm all packed and ready to take launch my ass out of this hell-hole (psychological, mostly). I was so pumped to leave last night that I actually ran at the gym. Not fling myself at the gym itself, but I was there, and instead of my usual walk, I jumped on the treadmill and ran my ass for near a half hour. That doesn't sound like too long a time, but I can't remember ever running that long. And I didn't even put my headphones on to listen to the TV. And the radio wasn't on. Or anything. I just ran. And ran. And it felt glorious, mostly because I thought I would pass out doing it but ended up never feeling like I would. I guess I was able to do it because when I walk the treadmill, I always adjust the level of it, elevating myself enough to make it difficult and to feel some burn. I guess that's the walking equivalent of running horizontal? Whatever, I don't care. I feel all empowered and shit. And particularly poetic, as I'm sure anyone reading this can tell. It's not worth much on paper (screen, whatever), but it's a wonderful feeling, and I wouldn't trade it for anything just now. Except to be home nice and safe and carefree. I want Mom hugs and Dad hugs and Morgan hugs and Conner hugs, and I want them all ASAP. And it's about time I got my hair done, too.
And see this place no more.
At least for a week
(Though actually less)
For then I shall have to come back.
But I'll take this time
And make it dear
And try not to bitch and to moan
Fuck all that "love thee, Centre dear"
Cuz damn it, I'm going home!
It's not a perfect poem, if it's even a poem at all, but I only have twenty minutes 'till class, so it will have to do cuz I will have nooo more time for any updates today! I'm all packed and ready to take launch my ass out of this hell-hole (psychological, mostly). I was so pumped to leave last night that I actually ran at the gym. Not fling myself at the gym itself, but I was there, and instead of my usual walk, I jumped on the treadmill and ran my ass for near a half hour. That doesn't sound like too long a time, but I can't remember ever running that long. And I didn't even put my headphones on to listen to the TV. And the radio wasn't on. Or anything. I just ran. And ran. And it felt glorious, mostly because I thought I would pass out doing it but ended up never feeling like I would. I guess I was able to do it because when I walk the treadmill, I always adjust the level of it, elevating myself enough to make it difficult and to feel some burn. I guess that's the walking equivalent of running horizontal? Whatever, I don't care. I feel all empowered and shit. And particularly poetic, as I'm sure anyone reading this can tell. It's not worth much on paper (screen, whatever), but it's a wonderful feeling, and I wouldn't trade it for anything just now. Except to be home nice and safe and carefree. I want Mom hugs and Dad hugs and Morgan hugs and Conner hugs, and I want them all ASAP. And it's about time I got my hair done, too.