Battle Journal

DeMar ascended the gun to eye level of Tidus, "What you gonna, do? Huh punk, come on!" I could feel the increasing pressure of the gun being jarred into my cheeks. "Come on, Tidus, say something!" DeMar was now parallel with the gun and in my dreary eyes. 

"Listen DeMar, I don't want trouble, and you don't want trouble, so please, I'm asking you to put the gun away and get off of me, alright?" I squirmed as I continued to fight the pressure of the gun on my cheek. 

"Haha, give me one reason I should let you go, nobody wants your punk ass here!" 

"Great, I'll leave, alright, now get off of me!" I shoved DeMar's hand off my cheek and the gun slipped to the ground. The fury in DeMar's eyes grew as we lunged to the floor in a scuffle for the gun. The hallway was empty as we scrambled for the gun, throwing ourselves on top of one another. DeMar reached for the gun as I clinched his opposite arm to pull him away. He got his fingers on the tip of the gun and pulled it in, "Haha, I got you now bitch!" DeMar flipped over and pointed the gun at me, "Tidus look out!" In the flash of an eye I saw Brody, my only companion, tackle DeMar just as he pulled the trigger. I dove to the floor as the bullet pelted the lockers behind me. 

The Opposite Sex

You know, I'm not sure I like this look? I feel fat when I wear tight clothes, especially jeans that are like spandex. Maybe I'm being to self conscious? Ah, that's not even possible. Should I do green or pink for my top today? Either goes well with blue bottoms...I think I'll go pink. Alright, just a little makeup for my face and another day in the life of a high school girl begins. If boys ever knew how much maintenance goes into what girls do to look their best, they'd never get married; its insane, makeups, hair brushes, nail polishers, curlers, wax kits, and on and on. Not to mention the amount of money spent on shopping for clothes every month. Basically, we girls are high maintenance and thats the way I like it. I want my better half to treat me like he would his favorite car, keeping me new and shiny, his pride and joy. Oh wow, I'm going to miss the bus, I gotta go.

Bear at the Door

"Jim, can you come here a sec?" Kate groaned from the foyer. 

"Sure, honey, what's wrong?" 

"Well, is it just me or are those people hauling a dead body out of their car?"

"Oh my God! What the hell are they doing with that thing?" Jim excitedly squeeled.

"Well what should we do, Jim? Kate covered her mouth in fear and disgust.

Jim grabbed his hunting rifle from the entryway closet, loaded it with 4 rounds, and pushed Kate behind, "Honey, just stay right there." 

"Where are you going, Jim? What are you going to do?" Kate worriedly asked.

"Honey, just stay there, you here me?" Jim demanded.

Jim ripped open the screen door and stomped across the driveway, facing the man and woman who had pulled the dead body out of their car. He cocked his rifle and yelled, "Hey, you two, what are you doing with that body?" 

"None of your business, pal. Get that gone away from us." The man retorted angrily.

"It is my business, not everyday you see a dead body being hauled around here."

"Hey body, listen, this body is my son, and he was just hit by a car on his bike, so would you shut up so we can get him help while he maybe has a chance!?" 

Jim looked closer and could see the child was still breathing as the father carried the body in his folded arms. 

Jim went back inside, put his rifle away, looked at Kate and simply said "Its just you, honey."

Early Wants

"Jack, I need you to get to Bethesda Heights right away," his father began, "and please, Jack, be careful out there or you'll get yourself killed."

"I'm on it pop, aint no way I'm gonna let those creatures kill me," Jack filled his chest with air and stuck his chin out, "aint happening, no way!" 

"I'll see you soon son."

Jack need not speak anymore before he left, he wasn't about words but action. His suave style, cocky strut, and smooth complexion make him look like a lady's man, but Jack is as hard-nosed as they come. He knew getting to Bethesda Heights to find his brother wouldn't be easy, but this was no time to be hesitant.

He opened the lab vault door to the outer post-nuclear world and the sun gazed down into Jack's sharp black Oakleys. He armed his rifle and smirked as the journey to Bethesda Heights began. 

The eerie ruins of Washington seeped with ambient noises of the mutations that remained, waiting to prey on Jack and his human flesh. Jack kept thinking to himself, "These punk slugs can't touch me," but in reality his hard-ass attitude was beginning to feel penetrated by the horror of what Jack had gotten himself into. 

Aha

The nurse opened the lobby door after that eternity of twenty minutes, "Kyle, the doctor will see you now." Hooray for me, I was called to the podium. I followed her back to the lair in which I would wait again for an eternity, but what's the rush to find out my illness? After she performed the check-me-up tasks she reassured me, "The doctor will be with you in a few minutes." In my mind I'm thinking "whatever" but yet I utter, "Thank you, I appreciate it." These offices always have that too-clean feel to them, everything is in perfect order and alignment, everything is new and shiny, but for some reason the damn magazines are three months back issue. The oversized wood door props open and Doctor Klines strolls in, "Kyle, how are ya?" His overpowering hand shake always intimidates me. 

"I've been feeling fairly uneven lately Doctor," I began my empathy oration, "I just have days where I don't feel well and others where I feel fine, and I tend to be moody, it just happened over the past year or so since my parents split up." 

"Mmhmm, well Kyle, I've studied your exams and it appears you have a defect in your cerebellum which is causing your thoughts to strain." 

"How could this happen, I haven't changed anything?"

"It's a side effect of smoking, your parent's smoke?

"Well, yea my dad had been, that's probably what caused this," I raised my voice and turned pale, "That no good bastard, I always despised his habits, I'm glad my mom broke up with that scumbag!"

"Whoa whoa Kyle Kyle, it's okay buddy, settle down."

"Why should I settle down? Huh! I gotta go doc, thanks for the help!" I stormed out of the office and ran to my car and it hit me like a ton of bricks that I deeply hated my father. Not just because of the condition he inflicted on me, but because of his lack of caring for me or ever being their when it mattered. I drove home to my mother and told her the news, her eyes swelled up with tears and she grasped me into her chest. She squealed, "Kyle, I'll always love you, and I'm sorry you've had to grow up with that joke of a father."

"I love you too mom."

I may have lost part of my brain function, but the sacrifice is well worth my mom's love.

A Day in the Life

Most would say a successful day is working the 9 to 5, putting food on the table and a roof overhead; that's a day in the life for the majority. Where I come from, that 9-to-5 is consolidated into a 30 minute sermon, every Sunday morning. My volition as a pastor is to spread the Lord unto others, it is my calling; the beautiful old lady in the white vest, the newborn waiting to be baptized, the blonde adolescent exploring his new found faith, and all the others in my congregation. The chapel is where we meet, with the flush-lined wooden benches, the cross 50 yards above our heads, and my home-the podium. My 30 year old bible with the indexes from undergrad school, my initiation robe, and leather slippers are always with me as I enter this atrium. I look upon the crowd and control them at the tip of my fingers, "All rise," as I raise my hands high, they follow, "Let us pray." That harmonious Lord's prayer illuminates the air with fresh life as I dedicate yet another 30 minutes to my loved ones. It's all in a days work.

Story From a Map

How did I get here? This dreaded ice hole, nothing but white mist for miles in each direction. Snow piles up on my eyebrows, blurring my already limited vision. My blood vessels constrict in a flight or fight response to the shivering cold, limbs are all numb. Does this floating mass of ice have an end? The dry wind impales my face as if I was being pricked by an acupuncturist, shards of sleet follow with the icing on the cake. I scream out, "HEEEELLLLPPPP!!!" staring up at the sky, waiting for the silence of the shale clouds to break with God answering my prayer. Off in the distance I can see a blip of black slowly growing as it moves toward me. How could this be? Was someone out here to really save me? I got down on my knees, weeping for what seemed to be joy. My tears gelled to ice before they had a chance to drip from my chin. The figure came nearer and I could begin to make out characteristics of the person. They donned a ragged parka coat with rugged overalls and hiking boots; it appeared as if the fellow was carrying a rifle on his back also. I reached my hand out as he walked up to me, "Oh thank you, thank you thank you thank you," I cried, "why do you have a rifle?" 

The man, slowly lowered his head and dug his dark eyes into my face, "I hunt," he said in a monotonous tone. 

I inquired, "What is there to hunt out here?"

He pulled the rifle off his back, and wiped down the nozzle with his snow covered palm, "I hunt people like you who invade my territory."

He pointed the gun right down the bridge of my eyebrows, cocked the rifle, and clenched the trigger. I hurried, "Whoa, whoa I swear man, I don't even know how I got here, please I I I I" he interrupted, "Shut up! I'm how you got here and I'm how you will leave here" Click, click, BOOM!

Story in an Hour

Mike was lost in his thoughts, reminiscing of the past times he had shared with Dan and Josh during the young summers where no responsibilties came with life. Those early years of running around outside, finding trouble, and then heading back to the home and playing video games and eating those oh-so-good frozen pizzas. Even as him and Josh sat at the bar of the Applebees, Mike couldn’t help but wander why childhood has to end as he felt it was the best part of his life that he now had trouble coping with. Josh was like a beacon in the dark for Mike, always by his side when things got rough. Josh had thick, bull-cut blonde hair and an innocent look in his hazel eyes; he had that genuine, slender American white-boy feel to him, always cheery and positive.  Mike was on the other end of the spectrum, he donned baggy clothes on his lanky, pale body and black hair and eyes; he was also more pessimistic and gloomy than one could imagine possible. It seemed fitting that these two were going to be future room mates though, considering all they’ve been through and the fact that their contrasts seem to make a happy medium. All is not well, however, as Mike and Josh had to let one of their three person tripod go because the dorm room process only allows for two-person units.

The smoke rose high in the atmosphere, the scent of alcohol flooded Mike and Josh’s nasal passages, and the drunks to right at the bar rioted as Mike Tyson clips aired on ESPN.  “Have you talked to Dan lately?” Josh questioned as he sunk his teeth into his Sam Adams.

“Not at all man, I’m worried if he’s still upset about that whole room ordeal,” Mike replied, acting as if he cared but didn’t as he raised his eyes toward the TV across the bar.

Josh set his drink down, looking at Mike irritated, “Yea, but I’ve been getting heat from other kids, I think he told some people about it and now they think we like set him up.”

Mike refused to lose eye contact with the TV as he played with his drink on the bar, “Josh, let me tell you something right now, no matter how much you know, it doesn’t matter if you can’t prove it.”

“That’s actually true man, very true. “

“Believe me, when people are upset or down about something, they bend the truth and tell everyone else their “version” of it. People tend to sympathize with the victim and believe their story regardless what others say, so in essence, we’re screwed.” Mike lowered his eyes and grinned at Josh as to get a laugh out of him.

“Ya think his parents hate us now? I mean, he probably went home and told them that we jipped him out of a room on campus and that me and you would rather live together than with him.”

“Oh that’s exactly what was said and its not even close to the truth.”

Josh lit up as if someone prodded him in the back with a pin, “Dan will never tell us if hes upset because he just represses his emotions and it pisses me off; what am I supposed to do just baby him and worry about what his deal is all the time? You kidding me?!”

“I know Josh, I know, its ridiculous. Even I tend to be hum when I’m peeved but I damn well say something when the time is right because silence is hard to decode.”

The overture of the restaurant loomed over Mike and Josh as they sat and stared into oblivion, wondering what Dan was feeling of them and if he could ever come to terms with the situation. Mike looked at his empty glass, pushed it to the side and laid down a five-dollar bill for the bartender, “I don’t know man, I just don’t know anymore.” Josh chugged his last ounce of beer and slammed the glass down as if it weighed twenty pounds, “Well, life goes on Mike, there’s nothing else we can do, we just have to live with the things people say about us even when they’re false allegations.” Mike sucked in his lips and blew out a big huff of what seemed to be relief and mumbled, “So much for doing the right thing and being honest, I’m telling you Josh, Heaven better be all its cracked up to be.”

Be a Spy

"How could you do that?" Sadly, I had no answer to her inquiry, so I just said something, "I did what had to be done, Jackie, alright!" "Oh, so you just think you can go around hurting people and fix everything?" I knew breaking Jergen's arm was cheap of me, but he injured my best friend and deserved it. "I'm outta here Ben, you're on your own." Jackie uttered as she left my room and slammed the door. I was at a loss and simply stared as she got in her car and drove away. 

I called Carl to see how he was feeling after Jergen broke his leg in our basketball practice. "How ya doin' Carl, ya better?" He sounded down and out, "I'm alright man, just pissed that Jergen took that cheap shot at me," the anger in his voice rose, "what the hell was he doing man! He just took out my feet for no reason on a completely open lane!" I tried to calm him down, "I know man, I know,  but at least I got him back!" Carl didn't know about what I had done to Jergen yet, "Huh, what do you mean?" I giggled in reluctance, "I broke his arm later that practice by grabbing it when he was boxing me out, it was actually easier than I thought hah." Carl was silenced for what felt like an eternity, "Why would you do that, Ben, what the hell?" I could feel my mind beginning to pace, "I did it for you man, what are you talking about?" "That's awful, how could you do that?" Oh that damn line again, I have no answer for it still so I gave him the usual, "I did what had to be done, Carl, alright!" 

Trauma

Coach Matson cleared his throat and let it out,  "I'm afraid you failed your drug test, Blake...you tested positive for marijuana and you can't play for the season by high school rules." My eyes remained in direct contact with coach Matson's as my throat began to feel like it was full of acid and my heart pulsed. He stood with his hands on his hips and didn't say a word, but just stared. I had nothing to say, so I didn't and I turned and slumped off the field.

It was earlier this week that I decided to try out marijuana with my friends for the first time, sort of a celebratory way of ending summer before football season. "Hey Blake, you want a hit of this?" Kyle offered. Sick of peer pressure and wimping out I reluctantly took my first hit of marijuana. "Ohhh gaa, ick, yak, ugh, man thats nasty" I wheezed as the smoke came blowing out. Kyle laughed hysterically, "Haha rookie, lookatch you." Oh man that night was crazy, I don't even know how I got home but I do remember getting some ridiculously deep sleep. 

"Blake get up, you have a drug test for football in 45 minutes," my mom hollered as she pounded my door, "get up Blake c'mon." I wiped my eyes with my hand and thought it was 20 years later I was so rested. I hope Kyle was right about this stuff being out of my system soon enough, it should be okay. 

Facade

I was talking with my buddy Cal the other day about how much we can't stand our friends anymore and their dependence on drugs and alcohol to have fun. It seems like nobody wants to just chill out and play some cards or watch a movie anymore. "I'm so sick of these fake kids," Cal said tilting his head back against my couch. "I know man, its pathetic, what kind of life is that, just come home drinking and sitting on your ass, how is that fun?" I responded. Another night just sitting on our butts, playing video games, not a thing to do because everybody else is out drinking, socializing, and relaxing. Sometimes I wish wasn't the sober kid all the time.

Slight Breeze in Hong Kong

I love these days, the ones where the sky is that perfect tint of blue and white, the wind blowing just enough to sweep your clothes side to side, and the sun provides that touch of mild heat. Yes, where better to be in downtown Hong Kong strolling along the river side, just enjoying the beauty of the day. Sure, I am tourist and have no idea how to speak Chinese, but that doesn't deny me tranquility. I came here because I wanted to experience life and beauty on my own; its hard to be at peace back in America where people are always looking for work and duties to burden me with. 

I was beginning to feel lonely, though. I was entering my late 20's and still had a crush on my homecoming date from my junior year of high school. I couldn't let her go, she was like that angel sent from above. I refused to believe that she wasn't my soul mate, but she was already married. Even in this beautiful park along the river, sitting on a wood bench staring out into the skyscrapers a ways across the other side of the river, I still found myself pondering what could've been between me and Tina. I tilted my head back and soaked up the rays of the sun as the tree in front of me flourished from side to side, the leaves rustling. I closed my eyes and just became at ease, nothing in the world could disrupt my calmness. 

That is, until I heard a sharp noise enter my head. It sounded like heels slapping the sidewalk in front of me, off to the right they were coming closer with each click. The park had a handful of people walking by now and then, but these were just home folk; this click was different. I tilted my head down and opened my eyes and the heels were now right in my line of sight. I raised my head, escalating across the beautiful silk, maroon dress, up the tan neck and stopped at the turquoise eyes and lush blonde hair; it was her, Tina. "Erick, is that you?" She asked in disbelief, "T, T, Tina," I stuttered, "Oh my God, what are you doing here I haven't seen you since high school." She paused and slowly chuckled, "I'm on vacation, I've always wanted to come here." I couldn't believe this was happening, I was in my dream travel locale with the girl that I have always loved. "I am at a loss right now, I can't believe your here Tina." I decided at this point, who cares, so what if she's married, I'm sick of hiding my emotions and feelings, I'm just going to come out with it. "Tina, there's something I've always wanted you to know," I began as she looked down on me slightly confused, "Yeaaa?" She replied, "I want you to know that I always thought you were my angel, and that one day you would feel the same about me, but I guess that just isn't meant to be." I could tell by her gaze that she was in shock, but I could feel her digesting what I had spoken. "Honey, are you coming?" Off to the left I could see Chris, Tina's husband hollering for her, "Erick, its been good seeing you, I gotta go," she murmured as she stumbled away. 

As she walked away, my eyes remained elevated and in direct contact with the sun that she had been blocking. For some reason, I just couldn't close my eyes. They say you should never stare directly at the sun, but my eyes could withstand anything after seeing Tina slip away.

The Heist

Luke Reimold, 18 years old, 3.8 GPA, getting ready to graduate in the West Lake High class of 2007 and take his education to the university of Wisconsin. Life was good, he had his health, friends, family, and faith. He had a life that many would kill to possess, yet he took it all for granite. Sure, he said his prayers every morning at the table and every night before bed, he went to church, he did his homework, he loved his family, but he was trapped by a greater evil that consumes millions of us: consumerism. Luke wanted all the latest and greatest materials that were out, regardless the price tag. Being a broke college-student-to-be Luke decided that he needed to find a way to "beat the system" and curb his hunger for more by contacting his buddy Zak who worked for Best Buy. Zak, who was Luke's consumerist pal, said he found a loophole to heist Best Buy from the inside out and Luke was wary at first but after listening to the blueprint of the plan he decided to be in on it. Basically, Zak had access to a return assistant's computer login which allowed him to access old receipts and fake that they were returned and he would pocket the gift card without anyone knowing. It was a wham-bam-thank-you-mam process, and it worked! The two couldn't believe it, months on end that had limitless gift cards to Best Buy to blow on all the latest games, movies, stereos and other useless entertainment. 

Luke thought that life was now perfect, that is until he realized Zak was admitted to a mental hospital and quit Best Buy. Zak knew Best Buy had been watching him steal the gift cards and quit before they said anything, he then admitted himself to a mental institution and came back a month later. All the while, Luke knew his addiction to materials were going to get to his head if he didn't do something. When Zak got back from the hospital, he came to Lukes room at his home in West Lake. They sat and talked to Luke and said "Luke, I fought the devil, and I won." Luke knew it was his turn, because he was haunted everyday by the demon that told him to consume and buy. "I need out of this hell, man, I can't do this anymore, LET ME GO!" Luke screamed at Zak, "Whoa man, calm down," Zak replied. Luke slowly reached into his pant waist and cocked a 9mm, Zak hollered "LUKE, what are you doing man put that down!" "I can't man, I can't, I can't, I need out, I need out!" He put the gun to his throat, pulled the trigger, and in an instant his eyes popped open, "Ahhh!" He screamed, "Luke is everything alright," his mom screamed down the steps, "Yea mom, its just a bad dream."

Vaguely Remembered, yet Never Forgotten

Its funny how our earliest years in life are the blurriest ones when it comes to recreating the images we saw. So much occurs to our frail, young mind at such a rapid pace that it becomes impossible to remember all those eye-opening moments. Heck, I remember next to nothing about my childhood except for the tornado that ripped down our farm home and changed my family forever.

At the toddler age of 2 years old, I was too young to comprehend the power possessed by a tornado or let alone strong winds. My brother was watching over me to make sure that, if the storm that was upon us got severe, I wouldn't crawl out of his sight. My mother was in the kitchen, grasping her coffee mug as her hands trembled just enough to make her spill some as she sipped. The lightning flashes lit up the house for split seconds at a time as my father moseyed about the entryway in his usual "I'm not scared of this" attitude. I don't think I've ever seen my dad afraid of anything, probably because of his incredible bond with God and his faith, not to mention he was a farm boy growing up. I think thats why my mom is the perfect compliment to my father, because she is the most brittle person I've ever known when it comes to apprehension and worrying. My dad is like her guardian and I could see that from the day I was born.

"Elliot, lets go down to the basement buddy." My brother picked me up and carried me down to our cement-floored basement with the single light fixture over the middle of the room. He tugged the string and the light flicked on, spider webs coated pretty much every corner of the room and there was one lone half-window on the upper edge of the near wall. My parents both ran down the steps, "Elliot and Nate, why don't you get under that table and cover your heads," my mother panicked. I scattered for the middle of the table so I could be sheltered and I covered my head with hands like a siren had just gone off by my ear. "Oh boy, this doesn't sound good," my dad mumbled as he looked outside the slit of a window we had. The house began to rumble and jars rattled off the food shelfs we had in the basement. My brother reminded me, "It's gonna be okay bud," as I shivered in fear, sucking my thumb bone dry. 

The ever haunting sound came, that sound like a freight train about cross the road, and I knew that a tornado was coming. "Get down!" My mother screeched as the house began to rip apart. "Oh, Jesus!" My dad was furious as he could hear the shingles peeling off the roof and our barn being twisted to chips of wood. I remained clenching my head and sucking my thumb with my brother wrapped around me. "Douglas, oh no," my mom cried, her face now wet in tears. "Its okay, I think its over us honey," The house slowly began to stiffen as we sat in silence, light flickering and waving back and forth. "Its gone," my brother said as he began to unlatch me. We went up the stairs, slowly unlocking the door and pushing it open to a house now sopping wet without a roof. The living room was drenched and when I looked up I could see the dark night sky still thick with lightning. 

"Oh my God," my mom and brother murmured simultaneously. I could see my dad, completely distraught from the carnage that was wreaked upon our house. For the first time in my life, I had seen my dad in fear, as he wept standing by the window looking at the remains of his farm and years of hard work.

Home Memories

I remember the classic TV set that lay on my wooden stand in my dark, draped room. For some reason I was a huge fan of the Weather Channel; not a minute would go by where my eyes weren't glued to the meteorologist and his rather terrible forecast predictions. Something about weather just intrigued me and I always loved that fear instilled by a sever thunderstorm and the ensuing warnings all over the news. My parents even noticed my attachment to the weather and had envisioned me becoming a meteorologist. 

I was a loner during much of the day, my window was always shut, shades were shut, door was shut, and I would be in my bed staring at that TV. If I wasn't watching the Weather Channel, I was playing my retro video games like Super Mario and the occasional John Madden 1995 game. It was just something about being alone in that cozy little room right by my parents bedroom that I adored. I felt like I was in my own world, free from the horrors of the outer world; lost in contact with the current events that I loathed because of the negativity they brought. I always told my dad that I was going to create a news station called "The Gospel" when I grew up because all the news every is is bad news, and I wanted to hear about all the good news aka gospels of the day. 

Alas, we moved from that two-story home on Darnel Road when I was 13 years young, and I have missed it ever since. Sure, we live in a bigger home now, but I am more of the cozy type and not about the big, open homes. Hopefully when I buy a home, it will mirror my first childhood home.

101-Word Story

I’ve always feared flying. My dad doesn’t seem to care how we travel as long as we get from point A to B. Although, It’ll be worth it once we’re in Colorado. I love the mountains and fresh blue sky. My dad is a big outdoors guy himself so I latch onto that. The plane feels like a flying waiting room, with the cockpit being the doctor’s office. The voice on the over-com moans “We’ll be landing in 10 folks.” At last, my summer vacation begins in old Rocky top. My dad looks at me, “Son, I don’t feel so good.”

Journal Day 1--Story From First Sentence

In every library there is a book that kills. Well maybe it doesn’t take a life away, but it certainly can kill a part of us. 3 hours until my first exam for Organic Chemistry and I haven’t even broke the seal on the textbook. This thing dwarfs any other book I’ve ever had; it weighs nearly 10lbs and contains nothing but pure gibberish to any normal human being. Okay, lets see the reaction between a hydrogen atom and chloride gives us an…Oh who am I kidding I’m screwed! I’ve always been a crammer but now I’ve met my doom with such a poor habit. Sure, it gets the grades in the easy math classes and whatnot, but if I’m going to be serious about becoming a chemist I need to know this goliath of a book inside and out. 

This chill, phantom-like library is just laughing at me. The old lady bookkeeper is about ready to call it a day, the student to the left of me has his iPod booming, and the pretty girl to my right has that look of seduction on her face. Its funny how when one is in a dire situation like I am that the focus becomes lackluster, considering I now have 2 hours left and not a page has been deposited into my brain. Okay Elliot, I can do this; its just me, the book, and the desk going to work. Its funny how I have these little mind conversations with myself trying to tell myself that everything will be okay when in reality I am just waiting on my untimely misery. 

Why can’t I get this stupid head to focus? Come on, Elliot, you’ve slacked off this whole month and it stops now! Open that book and do what you do best. Chapter 2: Aliphatic Compounds, lets see “Olefins alkenes with double bonds, which can be mono-olefins with a single double bond, di-olefins…” all right, I’m dead.