I wish today, and my whole life, wasn’t a complete and total waste.

“Thank you, please but your flattery is truly not becoming me.

Your eyes are poor. You are blind. You see, no beauty could have come from me.

I am a waste of breath, of space, of time.

…your decisions are yours alone. You are nothing but a stepping stone

on a path to debt, to loss, to shame.

My head feels weak and suddenly it is clear to see that it is not them but me, who has lost my self-identity.

As I hide behind these books I read, while scribbling my poetry,

like art could save a wretch like me, with some ideal ideology that no one can hope to achieve.

And I am never real; it is just a sketch of me.

And everything I have is trite and cheap and a waste of paint, of tape, of time.” Continue Reading >>

Any spare motivation?

Does anybody have some motivation they can spare me? I haven’t even started studying for finals – which will, I guarantee, be completely awful – and I’m completely worn out. All I’ve been able to feel when I’m not studying is guilty for not doing it; all I can think about, dream about, is this stupid architecture paper that nobody will be able to edit. I feel rather resentful that I work so hard to edit peoples’ papers as fast as possible, and when I finally have one I need done, they’re too busy. I have wasted all today so far reading Three Musketeers, which is thick and long and must be finished & returned to the Clark library by the time I leave. (Whatever the site says about it looking like an open book, don’t believe them! My Arch prof actually talked about our library in class and asserted that it was meant to look like a copy machine with its case taken off. That’s what the architect said, anyway, and I believe that way more than the ridiculious nonsense tour guides spout.) Continue Reading >>