pinwheel feet

I ended up not attending school yesterday, considering I had stayed up until 3 a.m. that morning, wrought with delirium. When I shut my eyes tightly, I could see silhouettes of little men with outstretched arms imprinted upon my eyelids. I sat in my swivel chair for hours, my knuckles against the side of my face, staring blankly into the computer screen. I could barely form coherent thoughts. I concluded that long-term relationships cannot be established with guys whose names aren't monosyllabic.

Today, unfortunately, I ended up going to school, though I was still tired. At least I didn't break down in the shower this time. In fact, I smiled broadly during my journey to the food room upon discovering that I'd nailed myself a 69% on the math exam. It amused me that that's been my lowest test score since back in the day, in elementary school. The last time, I was so ashamed that I ended up trashing the test, despite the fact our teacher had sternly instructed us not to do so. It was like mercilessly stomping on a mushy banana. Or even a regular banana, for that matter. What I'm trying to say is that I couldn't handle failing to uphold my lofty standards. My self-confidence has since evolved from the withered banana it once was, thankfully. Because let's face it, it annoyed the living fuck out of everyone within my general vicinity that I wouldn't accept compliments. Even the puddle of murky scum known as Clayton found it maddening. For those of you who haven't heard of Clayton, well, I'll say this: I wish they would make an exception and neuter the assjack. And inflate him with estrogen.

Anyway, when I got home from school I got a chance to talk to Pat for an extra hour or so, which is most likely the only good to ever result from finals. He makes my face hurt from smiling so much. But then again, so did My Neighbor Totoro when the fuzzy, beady-eyed totoros began running around with their little pinwheel feet and tossing acorns everywhere.