Kan Lazem At5emed

I have chem class in less than four hours, and after 3 trials to fall asleep including turning off the lights, reading a good book and listening to music, nothing worked, because I don’t sleep when I’m anticipating something, and I realized I don’t really give a shit, so I’m not anticipating anything anymore, except that now I won’t sleep because I don’t want to, not because I’m anticipating something because I’m not anymore, but  because I really don’t care anymore. It’s not that much of a paradox now. You see, Chemistry is one of the many things I really suck at, and is similarly one of the many things I bust my ass to be good at, because I’m frustrating like that. Last year, I failed the first evaluation quiz, was provoked, and was the only one to ace the second. Still though. It bugs me…So I like it.

I was flipping through blogs of complete strangers when I found this idea someone started and it caught on. A letter to your 16-year-old self. Well, I’m not sure what’s so special about 16. 16 was one hell of a roller-coaster for me, I don’t like it, I have absolutely nothing to say to it and I don’t want it back. I’m 17, and yes, I have nothing to say to my 16-year-old self. However, when I read that post, with all the advice about growing those bangs and not caring about that 9th grade bully because he’ll turn into your best friend in college, all I could think of was this: If there’s an older version of me in some parallel universe and it can somehow hear me because she’s the future me so everything I think will be in her past or whatever, well, if there’s anyway we can telepath, I could really use that letter right now.

Don’t get me wrong though, I was never big on predictability, nor do I need a longass lecture, I have plenty of people who supply me with that on cue, sometimes even off-key for the matter. A little ‘everything’s gonna be alright’ won’t harm anyone though now would it? And not the one with the psychological masturbation. The real deal, with proof. Now that I actually can sleep, I’m falling asleep on the keyboard right now, I don’t want to. There’s something very depressing about the process of going to sleep. Just the waiting before I actually do fall asleep is the part that bugs me. As long as I’m conscious of the waiting, it’s never over, and I’m hardly never conscious of the waiting, so for the past year I’ve been falling asleep. As in staying awake till I can’t take it anymore and slip out of consciousness. You skip that part with all the waiting, all the memories and stuff you suppress into the back of your mental closet and clog it with a cabinet comes creeping out like Bogey man. It’s never pretty. Unless you’re inebriated, then they’re just psychedelic, and you’re too doped to realize if they’re pretty or not. They’ll just be…there, and it won’t feel that bad. Except that it costs you brain cells. Brain cells aren’t that available these days.

What’s that about writing prompts? I checked it out and I admit there are some creative ideas in there that I might use myself, but for some reason, writing prompts didn’t click. They sound like the literary equivalent of blood transfusion, and for some reason that I can’t pin I imagine tiny smurfs with forks poking my brains, must have something to do with the word ‘prompt’. I hate that. One of the few words that I really hate and could easily lash out on someone for saying to me is ‘yalla’. What’s wrong with taking your time and letting things flow? Even if you don’t have time and you indeed have to do something, the word ‘yalla’ in itself is the definition of encroaching. Why should the word ‘yalla’ exist unless someone wanted to move and move you with them, much like pawns? Back on the subject, I trailed off, but writing prompts, as creative as they are and I know I’ll use them some time when my writer’s block overrides my ‘yalla’ revulsion, I really don’t like them. Just the idea of something ‘prompting’ you, really doesn’t sound that appealing in my head.

On an unrelated note, well, not much unrelated since the word ‘prompt’ and the ‘yalla’ effect with lack of sleep led towards the ultimate prompters. Flies. Why do flies keep coming back to you after you shoo em away with the back of your hand? Don’t they have any sense of self preservation? Maybe they have short-term memory loss, but even if they do, don’t they have an ego?