Young Man, Fast Food, Slow Brain

Every ounce of energy has been overplayed into my evening. Here I am, overwrought and rejected, hand on the windowsill, wishing I could see past the reflected light into the star-ridden darkness. It's so hard to unwind sometimes. I could swear there are little termites in my head trying to chew their way out through my temples, and yet my feet feel warm and fuzzy. Hilarious. It's like my own body is rebelling against itself.

I wish I could lay off the stimulants, they probably only make me more exhausted than I already am. Still, I can't fall asleep. There's so much left to do, so much living to get done, that I feel vivacity flow into me, where it mixes with my tired blood into a cocktail of delirium.

I can hear you, stop shouting at me like your lips are a megaphone! I heard you the first eight times, and I hear you now as you blather on about current events and why I should care. I still don't. These times are just for living, just like all the times before. So many people miss out on that. They call it wisdom: I call it sacreligious.

Wisdom is living, not ordering a double-bacon-cheeseburger, large fries, and a diet coke.