I noticed a habit of mine, during the final month of the semester, I write excessively. Academic? Well, yes, but I'm referring to delivering dumb ass banters, such as the one you are reading and perhaps farting/yawning/eating to right now. (if you are the type of person who treasures your precious time, maybe you should stop reading as you will feel rightfully robbed of your minute) This has to be attributed to my limited human interaction within that (or this) time frame. Somehow, I have found a way to remedy my need for social interaction by means of writing thingies like this. It's just my way of venting my thoughts and in a way, hopelessly touching base with civilization.
Anyways, today, while I was studying at school, I noticed a girl walking towards my table. She was gripping onto a matte covered book, grainy in texture of course (my favorite,, reminds me of peach fuzz), she had the biggest, fucking cheesiest smile on her cherubic face. For some strange ass reason, I felt my face heat up and turn red; I was livid. Why was I so pissed? I was jealous. Envy permeated my mind and I was pissed that this girl was going to sit down and read a book. What's interesting was that I had to take a moment to realize that what I was feeling extended beyond anger, that I was experiencing envy. It was like I was five years old again, and I wanted to steal that book away from her…..I should be the one reading for pleasure…man, at this point, reading anything non-business related would be a dream…then I noticed that I was glaring at her, watching her sit down on the ass scented pleather cushioned booths near the tables, and inevitably, opening that grainy textured book. suddenly, I felt like homer simpson when he had set his eyes on the venus di milo gummy…..i really wanted that fucking book. man, i can't wait till' this semester is over....
okay, back to my rendezvous with mr. asspiss, the not so friendly textbook.
