Absense

I am walking around my room looking for a piece of a paper, a phone number, a CD-ROM, a pair of earphones, a crossword puzzle that if I don't do I will fail my class. This is depression. Millions of papers are buried underneath clothes and you can't bear to fold your clothes. You have so many clothes. You stuck an important phone number in one of your books. Who knows what book. This is depression. While youre searching for the phone number you imagine where you could be if you could find the phone number; you could be studying; on your way to success. But you are bent over sifting through a pile of clothes to find a phone number. If you find the phone number the number has been disconnected or the lady does not work there anymore. they say "Nadine who." You say nevermind and think "where was I". Oh yeah, back to slouching over looking for a piece of paper that you may have thrown out. Oh yeah, what is Jim's email address. I may have thrown it out as well. Maybe you threw it out. Back to slouching over sifting through a pile of papers and clothes. drama of the gifted child. I used to think "gee whiz, when I grow up I will need some one to take care of all my paperwork" administrative documents and the like. I thought it brought me further away from my pure artistic voice. Now, it brings me closer. It is the collision of the forces; the need to rebel, the need for the need to rebel. The need for a point of rebellion. Never let me draw away from civilastion in a cabin with no running water. I would go insane.