And I'll Fight Like Hell, To Hide That I'm Giving Up

Yawning
I must stay awake
I scribble words, scrawl nonsense, inscribe the dregs of my mind that should be concentrating on futile cycles.
The is futile.
Resistance is futile.
The futility of waking, sleeping, concentrating.
The antisense approach, reaching understanding backwards through a mire of confusion.


No, I have no idea where that was going. I think I fell asleep while writing it. The power of a boring lecturer.

I'm tired of being fucked around. I know he doesn't do it on purpose, he doesn't intend to upset me - apparently trying to be pleasant about it means I'm not upset; I'm not allowed to be upset after the event, and furthermore we're not going to argue about it because he doesn't want to piss me off. Well, I'm already pissed off, and I'm not in the mood to get pissed off enough so that I end up apologising for being pissed off because I get so goddamned angry.

So instead, I'm going to give up.