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I figured out how to make all those thoughts that were troubling me finally go away:

     Just work.
        And study.
   (Maybe sleep.)

My days are too filled with trivial diversions to allow for abstract comtemplation now. It wasn't a choice--I didn't think it would be anything like this, that I would feel so tired, and that I would have such trouble sleeping. My second wind comes around 12 and I usually can't get to sleep for at least two hours afterwards.

I sometimes want to crawl away from all this work. But I know as soon as my body begins to wind down my thoughts will start back up again. And none of us want that...

Force your body to move until you just can't...fall into bed or onto the couch. When you can't find balance in your life the only thing you can do is alternate between the extremes.

every apology you say whispers away into nothing in infinity
because the future is already the present and nothing is everything
can't you see that this is all a waste of time when our perspective
falls out from under us?
im sick of this small frame that i look through every day my tears
are too sticky to be rain for the window pane. they trace letters
and poems diagonally around the shimmering light, like jack frost
melted from the radiance of a ring of bright suns. when i put
my worn in sole on the pedal, i accelerate away from the frame
that hugs every single curve and angle of my face...
but all of a sudden i wake up with my body in paralysis, like i fell
a highway away and soon i don't know what everything is, it just
seems like its opposite and i just feel like a desperate flailing note
drowning up as i step in time, time becoming bigger than
anything that my mind could have intellectualized or that I tried to scrawl
down on a diner napkin that day when i was stuck in a thunderstorm,
but i knew that if i acted like i was wronged, nothing would go
wrong and everything would go right, and my material
redemption would solve my relationship problems, because
perfection goes out in radians and doesn't stop once you've
acheived everything.. or at least everything in your mind.
my success is enough to be happy
until tommorow, when the world opens its eyes, cracking the skin
open and turning blue from breathing in too fast with
the anxiety that pulsates around it in electronic waves.
Escapism is just re-opening your eyes, but at least its better
than staring at the wall.
I never asked for anything.

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