Written on 12/7/73, while sitting in the psychology department's tutoring room, bored and exhausted while waiting for students to show up. (Yup, I was a tutor when I was a senior).
Tired; very tired.
2:45 p.m. 15 more treacherous minutes.
I can't take it! I'll crack up!
I can't cope, I'll...
Control.
Control has been restored. The emergency is over.
Sanity prevails.
Why? Why? Why?
Don't know. Don't know if I'll ever know.
So tired. Need rest.
Want...
I don't even know what I want. I must be losing my mind. It's too quiet, but I like quiet.
Not the right kind of quiet.
Drifitng...drifting...drifting...
I'm back. Big deal.
I'm still tired...and confused. About almost everything.
Wow.
Hey, my head hurts. I want to sleep. Please let me sleep.
But not die. I don't ever want to die.
Maybe if I'm old and feeble. Or a vegetable.
I don't want to shrivel up and act senile. Never. No way, no how. Maybe if that happened...
I think I'm more afraid of dying than of death.
Tomorrow, I'll feel better. I usually do after more than ten (10) hours of sleep.
Revived, refreshed.
The problems will still be here, tomorrow.
So what?
Saturday, October 23, 2004
Bad Poetry
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Ah..stream of conciousness from someone who is far to concious!
ReplyDeleteHope you got some sleep! That was deep for someone so exhausted!
ReplyDeleteheh. My 7th grade English teacher was into having us write streams of consciousness on assigned topics, and I guess that got ingrained in me. I think it's faded over the years. :)
ReplyDeleteAnd yeah, I'm sure I got enough sleep after that. That's what weekends are for.