.........

I no longer understand English or why I am in it.

Dear GOD do I hate literary criticism and everything it stands for. I think I may be on the verge of hating philosophy too.

My life has no meaning.

I think the time has come to kill myself.

Patrick is laughing at me. And chewing on my neck. No, Patrick, sex is not enough of a meaning in life for me to live for. Unless you're going to collar me and tell me to believe it is.

As a side note, I also fucking hate Chaucer. As an allegory for literary criticism. I hate Chaucer like a rose. There's a fucking simile for you, too. Chaucer is hate. And a metaphor too.

Maybe I'll mow down Hulan in class tomorrow.

...or maybe it's just the caffeine talking.