Steps to irresponsibility are deliciously slow and painful when it ends.

I can feel it. It's a little twinge that says, sleep a little longer, read a little more, talk a little louder, cry a little easier, think a little too less, and be a little bit, a little bit more, and more lazy as time goes tick tocking by.

If you keep on feeding that twinge, it becomes a static cling, and finally it's a static charge that holds on to your very being, no matter how much you try to shake it off, you're too caught up with trying to catch up, but then it's too late, and bam next thing you know? You're dead.

Like a fax mail from the great beyond, telling me that you, Jana, are useless leader, and that you are becoming so much worse as a student and that you do not deserve to live, and that boom bada bing, you're a goner now, like you know... dead.

Dead, dead, dead, dead-y dead.

Hmm.

Also how does one go from serious discussion of irresponsibility to childish chants of dead-ness? This in itself is such a marvelous fact. I am truly a freak of nature.

Woot?

Lotsa love, Jana