I have to write a personal narrative for class. My life is so boring and uninteresting that I might just make something up. Everything that I can think of that is interesting and worthwhile to write about isn't exactly appropriate for an education professor to read.
So to help me come up with material, I've been rereading my journal. It's a mess of schizophrentic rants, shitty poetry, whining about men, and abandoned stories. But there have been the occasional flashes of intelligence in it, such as:
"There ought to be a law against selling journals to young, impressionable people who believe their thoughts are worth recording and their 'poetry' worth reading."
"Today I woke up convinced of my own mortality."
Comparing my life to The Bell Jar.
Comparing romantic relationships to Schrodinger's cat.
"I am less than a speck of dust floating within a ray of sunlight."
"Today I woke up from a coma."
"My heart paused its sustaining rhythm because of you."
"Let's be friends with sexual tension."
"Note to self: never skew the facts. I killed one and a half million people today."
"Wide awake when I don't even know if I want to be alive."
Jesus. Shoot me.
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