I’m currently immobilized by my Imminent Doom.
Dangerously optimistic; that I’ll see the other side of this, largely unscathed (debatable).
In fact, I feel like a crazy person, vacillating between eager anticipation for Long Beach and overwhelming despair for the more immediate finals doom.

I wish I were a robot. Then everything would function as a logical conclusion of some organized premise.
Instead of all this seemingly haphazard set of whims and extremes.
But everything is the logical conclusion of my haphazard whims…

I guess I am a robot. Just a haphazardly functional one.

Oh, beep bop boop.


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