whereforeartthou
FUCK!
It's monday. But I hate time so I guess it doesn't matter.
I am not ready for this day, this week, this month or year. Not that I should be ready for anything because that would presume certainty, and after all, what can we say with certainty?
No one ever warned me that there might be complications. Not that I needed to be warned, but it would've been nice. And so now I'm paralyzed by the unfortunate revelation that comes without warning. I know I'm supposed to accept the multiplicity of my existence but how can I? Doing so makes me feel as though there is no me. I can walk out into the UC quad and scream, "I EXIST!" until someone notices, but that is somehow unbecoming of my supposed character.
Well at least there is some comfort. The man in the navy blue suit and the crimson tie usually sits behind the desk. He gets nervous sometimes and is known for pacing and reorganizing newspapers and leaflets lying around. And I honestly don't know what's so fascinating about reading a French dictionary, but maybe that's the answer, you know? That I NOT end up like that dude...that I at least recognize my own existence even if I'm not entirely sure what that means.
Fuckin' mondays....I hate them.