I despise English teachers. Painfully stupid sorority-type girls who, with every ounce of stupidity they lose, gain a gallon of bitchiness. To study to become an English teacher, or even that major in general, is laughably easy and I bet they had ample time to procrastinate with partying. Now they are obsessive mothers who enjoy being pregnant every other year, and get extra money by bullshitting their way through a school subject. I am a bionengineer that loves to write, and it almost embarrasses me to know that I have some connection with them.

Writers, however, are another species altogether. Writing is an art with severe restrictions, trying to convey the unexplainable with mere words. When one is compelled to express something so vast, it is because one yearns to be understood. Is tortured by it, is detached by it, and is lost--so lost--in it.

Anyway, excuse that rant. I've decided I need a set of goals to adhere to this year.
1. Don't die. (intentionally or accidentally)
2. Try to do well in school without punishing yourself for every misstep.
3. Don't go down a spiraling abyss of addiction that will violate the above.
4. Don't push people away.
5. Don't think too much. Or, don't go down the rabbit hole.

You'll be free child once you have died,
from the shackles of language, and measurable time.
And then we can trade places, play musical graves,
till then walk away
walk away
walk away walk away