Its easier if you have that added java or the sluggishness from the lack of java, because otherwise, you’re you. Now, isn’t that a sight.
The wonder of all that energy is that you just have to work,  you have to do something– you can do anything.  Yes, anything.  One minute you’re finishing a history project, the next you’re integrating trigonometric functions with your right hand while your left snakes up your back, your uncut nails collecting  grime on your skin. You’re acutely aware that you haven’t had a bath in a week. You probably can now-
And just like that you crave the cold beating of water thumping on your face and the raw roughness of soap.
No, you must finish the sum, the exercise, the portion and you can, because right now, even time cant stop you.
Fuck time.
You still smell of last week’s fever in the thick wool you’ve been wearing all along, changed periodically during the day to a uniform for the real world.
You’re inking ‘x’s and roots and logs while Arpita’s face grows red from excitement at knowing she’s the new secretary and your head pounds as you remember the way she ignored your congratulations,  just like literally everything you’ve ever said to her. Its only time before the others realise. No, Nash isn’t like that, is she? Nah. Oh, but wait- remember today afternoon when  you three were sat together? Oh christ, fuck. And the way she moved away from you and to another room every time you sat next to her? The way she turned her back to you so fully to talk to her?
Ohhhhh fuck, Christ.
No, not now. Never now.
Never mind, you’ve got until this high wares off for that kind of indulgence.
The energy is precious, you claim every second because you can only bear to acknowledge your legitimacy between the third last sip and the first sting of tired eyes.
You don’t know if tomorrow will be skipping meals or desperately pressing your thumbs into your thighs because tomorrow is thirteen pages away, so you should let the 210 bucks a jar of existence do its job.


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