I can't believe my day is almost over. I'm sitting in my philosophy class. My body is begging for a cigarette but I know that I don't have a lighter and I don't know anyone well enough to ask for one. What a bitch. I wanted to call you today just to hear your voice casually call me babe. I don't think that you take it the same way I do. People are filing in, faces young and old, beautiful and plain all looking at me to anwser the questions that life asks. After all, this is philosophy. And we all are looking for something, are we not? Only one question bounces through my head. Are you thinking of me tonight? Do I monopolize your thoughts as you do mine? Today I look like an artist. Paint, red paint to be exact, from painting Dana's front room stains my shirt that I wore last night and slept in and also wore to work today. I must be a bad, bad girl. No shower, no make up, my long gold hair portraying the only beauty that graces my face, fingernails caked with subborn clay I couldn't remove after I left my studio. How can I possibly be so many things in one? A girl with charcoal covered hands, a woman that sits in front of a computer all day, a child that longs to hear voices haunting her from the past, a person sitting in a classroom waiting for the learning to begin, a generation X being that wonders how she is going to make her rent and eat all in the same month. Its funny how we can take things for granted.Birth sign: Not entered
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