Idled Thinking

Muffled words, idle talking, the growing, inexorable annoyance pulsing, constricting the brain. An inexplicable rage; at what? At the sounds! The sounds, the sounds provoking my rage, but why? Why! How can all this casual conversation amongst my peers make me feel this way? No one could guess what I am thinking, what I am feeling, how I am existing. Sitting, sitting alone, but with other people. They speak their minds while I breathe mine in, only adding to the exhausted pressure making my cranium feel like a blimp.

I am,

On the border of another plane,

I wish

I could fly away.

But,

Is that a cliché I ponder?

Am I mad? Does anyone else flare up for no acceptable reason? To be claimed by such an emotion, a feeling, an action. My mood swayed by idled words. How could the interactions of other humans affect me so? A moment when you see your peers acting what you deem immature and the annoyance you feel afterwards; an annoyance that leads you to scold them of their immaturity. But why do you scold them? Is it because you want to be them? Is it because you want to feel as if you are above them? Either way you should come to question your own maturity because the unit of measure for maturity is through emotion. The emotions that display immaturity are also the emotions that elicit the scolding.

Nine-twenty, the rotation repeats. Our heliocentric model continues to rotate, even though most would like to believe it’s geocentric, and insects buzz. Footsteps and asteroid belts, the herd of sheep trot omnisciently, and aimlessly. How important is dust? How important are you?

Idled Sinning

The only thing in my mind. The day rolled on and I sat, observing my bland surrounding only to be sparked by a few mildly interesting sights. In the corner on my formal prism was the arousing sight of a woman, unknowingly flaunting her assets. My body shuddered with a heated pulse, bringing a controllable urge of animalistic desire only to be broken by the hypnotizing ring of a virtual Notre Dame. My multitasking followed: walking and thinking, thinking and walking. Views, views everywhere, everything my eyes can see. Bodies walking, bodies talking, and couples locked by the face. My despair of the realization that I don’t have that; I want it. Melancholia infected me at the sight. I felt furious at the sight. How irrational, a desire leads to an urge to obliterate everything.

My arrival to the cafeteria is met with a joyous embrace. My most valued time of day where I can stuff myself with tasteless slop. I didn’t care, I was mindless and didn’t have to think of class. I didn’t have to think, what more could I ask for?Maybe not being at school, maybe staying in bed, maybe becoming a statue.

The theoretical fourth dimension is always increasing at a steady rate, and as it increases the time has come for me to return home. Solace in the peace that is my home. My family greets me and my sister asks me a favor, “Can you get me food? I’ll pay you back later.” My answer is a dark and stern, “No.” I retired to my room. I’d rather not spend my money on her, and I would only spend it on me. It was late and my favorite time of the day, a time when I get to log into my account to which I’ve worked restlessly to get achievements and masteries. A time where I was in control, even if it was virtually, I didn’t care. This account meant more to me than life itself. It was my addiction.