i coulda been something more
<< 11:14 p.m. - Saturday, Mar. 01, 2003 >>
I�m not sleeping at all. Can�t explain it. Just can�t lie down no matter how tired I am. Every other word I type is misspelled and I have to go back and fix it. God knows how long it will take me to write a full page. Fingers won�t cooperate. Eyes won�t tire of looking tired. Body lies languid and stretched. But still mind races. How can I explain how slow and strange I feel? You�ll have to try it for yourself. Be like twenty-year-old molasses.

So, Claire won the Academic All-stars thing in Language Arts. It wasn�t something new. I was hoping for once it might be someone else, even if not me. Screw it. Mr. Gordin was right and I hate him for it. I will never amount to anything. I am not what colleges look for. I have a separate mind, but I�m too lazy to use it.

And so, while I type, my eyes close for moments longer than a cloud formation, and fantastic images come to mind. Dreams on command. So fast that I forget that I�m only sitting in a rolling chair. All I want is spring break and the promise of a digital camera and a train ride to Chicago.