Here we go… five more minutes.. Stream of consciousness.. ok. Last time I typed this in class someone asked me if i was writing an essay, because there is no way i was taking notes. I should be offended, that I don’t look like a stenographer student, that I don’t look like i could type 90wpm, or like the kind of person that would try.
As someone who never tries hard. Not really. Being told I don’t try hard is frustrating. Looking like you aren’t trying is only a compliment if you actually are. Where in my situation, I’m just being called out as horribly one-dimensional.
Being one-dimensional is a fear of mine. I wouldn’t by a diamond with one facet. Not that I’m property, or even worth having, but being lusted after for luster is a hobby of mine. I want to be the diamond at the diamond show laying on black velvet in a place where no one can afford me.
Not that I am particularly high class. I’m bougie in that I order delivery more often then I can really afford. That I think that I’m at the precipice of figuring my life out that credit card debt is a short term problem. But my limit is high enough for me to do this. So the bank is as dumb and lazy as I am.
I don’t really think I’m dumb, that would be too easy. I’m cliché I guess. I’m that kid that could have been in the GATE program but would rather loiter outside the blacktop inter-mingling near but not with anyone.