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Earlier this morning I woke to the sound of my cell phone alarm somewhat happy just to be up to start the day as I do every morning at 8:45 sharp. I stared at the ceiling for a few minutes pondering the right choices I had made up to that point and forgetting all the bad decisions that led me to make those particular choices; I was carefree. I sprang up outta bed and Fred mumbled something in his sleep which I ignored, passing it off as just that - mumbling. I washed my face, brushed my teeth and synthed my rusty caps in FFXI. I took out my very last pair of shorts wrapping a mental string around my finger to remember to do laundry tomorrow.
I took a quick look at the clock, 9:25, and smiled at the thought that I had five more minutes to myself before I had to leave for my 9:50. Things were going to be good today. I could feel it (much as how another someone has been feeling lately and I do promise to start the weekly Tuesday entries once I settle into my new craptastic schedule) in my temples and was almost certain that I could get through another day on 4h of sleep and no agitation.
I situated my headphones, slapped the pack on my back and started the long, but what thinkably seemed shorter than usual, trek to class. Peering at the sky through half shut eyelids due to the shining sun I took note of the fluffy clouds and almost clear blue sky. Upon exiting the main part of Kelly Quad and could see the bus stop. I continued across the street noting that a few people waiting there were in the psychology class I was on my way to (I don't take the bus since it's never on time and I wanted to be early so I could check pricewatch.com on the computer before she started lecturing). As soon as I crossed the street though I felt uneasy, queasy, but kept walking. I looked toward the heavens again but this time my face was greeted by characteristic Long Island rain droplets, thick, sticky, and disgusting.
At this point I was only about a third of the way to class and turning back to the bus stop, kids were getting on it and it was about to pull away. I sighed and a young girl walking next to me looked over and sighed just as heavily right back. She may have said something but my music was much too loud to hear anything she might have had to say.
The last two-thirds of my trip are rather self-explanatory. My serenity had once again been shattered and that hooded sweatshirt my only comfort. Upon reaching Psychology A Room 141 I promptly found my seat. The TA was surprised to see someone so early. After a cheery comment I replied, "Well you'd walk fast too if you were this wet." I didn't come off snippy though, just slightly annoyed and certainly sarcastic so she smiled back and said she was sorry to hear about it. I dropped my book bag on a chair in the back of class and headed to the bathroom still wearing my rain-soaked garment.
I went into the nearest stall and wrung out my sleeves and hood. My shorts (my legs were also soaked) had been drenched through and my boxers the same. I would have to spend at least the next hour-and-a-half wearing these clothes, which were the last of my clothes for the week, sitting through a lecture in front of a computer screen, much like I do here in my room.
While the TA lectured on about the Methods section of the APA paper that would be due at the end of the semester I thought about how good I had felt about life just twenty-five minutes ago and wondered why that seemed as though it had happened some time much further in the past. I recalled having felt that same way once over the summer and how it rained that day too, and all over me as well. I remembered how much it sucked to lose a friend. I remembered my failed attempts to over-achieve. I remembered how wasted I was on hydrocodone. I remembered a part of my childhood I forgot about and I almost shed a watery-eyed tear. I remembered how much I missed the times when I wasn't struggling to keep my life in order. I remember the mistakes I had made just a few months ago. I remembered how I took the blame. I remembered that mom never supported me in anything I ever really wanted to do. I remembered trying to make connections I could never understand. I remembered how sad and lonely I am. I remembered that no matter how hard I try to finish something, that it will never work out. I remembered how much I hated myself for being the way I am.
Then I remembered I wasn't listening.
I'm just another dopeless hope fiend.
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