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2003-02-27

How I Spent My Senior Field Day

(From May 23, 2002--I think... I didn't bother to write the date down on the top of the page from my original journal. Your guess is as good as mine.)

Right now there's a lot of things that need changed. I think about that all the time, and all that keeps me from saying what I feel is that the whole thing is going to end in less time than I can imagine.

How many times can I bear to sit here? Neglected by the jaundiced pupils of the outside? There's a lot of onlookers here, but they seem to forget that there's anyone standing near them. Lots of times I want to drive past them, run up to their blank faces and let them know I'm here. It'd be worth it just to see the looks that pop up around their plucky eyebrows, just to get a reaction out of them.

It's like I've wasted so much time. Sitting. Scheming. Restless. So much time that could have been spent doing something. I've wanted so much to make an impression on these people. Let 'em know what they've been missing. A hell of a lot of good it'll do now. 'Shame I couldn't work that out sooner. I'd walk right through those glass doors and spin and dance and goo all out, the whole nine yards. Make 'em want to run up and touch me, the unlucky bastards. Make 'em want to scream. It's like watching a perfectly good box of chocolate sitting there--sitting there, going to waste. And there'd be nothing they could do about it. They'd have to sit there and drool all over themselves, wishing they could only have it so good. I want that so bad.

Hell yeah, that'd be good.

posted at 5:23 p.m.

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