Past The Point Of No Return

i can't concentrate...

its not as if i can say its from a lack of trying...
okay, well, its that i haven't had the time to try

i tried to take a nap, because i was dead tired.... but i couldn't fall asleep.... no rest came to me, just a million worries and a million fears went running through my head.... i ended up getting out of bed more tired than i was when i laid down....

arriving at work... only a few footsteps away from my front door.... i settle down, spread out the books, then the flood of people came in... its one after another after another... massive swiping action sychronized with the responding to people from my italian class - IMing me for the subtitles to a movie we are watching in class - .... there is no rest... no end....

something is seriously wrong with me... but i dont want to blame my actions/behavior on a pre-exisiting mental disposition, nor on this persistant physical ailment i seem to have been experiencing lately... but i know... something is just not right with me... maybe its that stupid hotdog-rice-E-egg concoction i made for myself saturday morning....

stupid chicken hotdogs....
what the hell kind of a normal person eats CHICKEN hotdogs?!?!
what happened to the beef? or the pork?
or just good ol' fashioned pigeon with a little shoe tongue?!
(simpson reference)
but no... my roomie has to be some freakishly weird division of christian....
why they don't eat pig beats me...
makes no sense at all,
if you were to ask me....

anyways... i can't concentrate... i can't even get myself to look at the first word of the goddamn article...

i see in big bold, capitalized letters "DECONSTRUCTION"
but i can't get any further than that without some annoying resident walking in, card in hand, extended out towards me the minute they walk in the door, as if i had some superpower ability to stretch my arm to great lengths to meet their card, and then swipe it through the silly swiper machine, whom i have already dubbed mr. Swipee....

i must admit... the most annoying of these residents are the ones who don't even come prepared with card in hand.... they come to the booth, slam their book bag on the counter... and while my outreached hand stands idly by, they dig & dig & dig & dig into the deepest, darkest depths of their bag... until they realize the stupid card was in their back pocket all along....

i agree with the "i don't appreciate" board when it states the common SM loathing of large, heavy keychains attached in some self-made anus of the card i have to swipe...
for these people i gladly take my sweet time to slide the card through mr. swipee

and Kyle, dont get me started on Kyle...
that little headless, sorry excuse of a dummy sitting in front of me
with his green plaid shirt
and his weeding gloves
why a headless man needs gardening gloves
is waaaaaaaaaaaaaay beyond me
recently...
-may it be a sadistic joke,
taunting the headlessness of a headless man,
or an action rooted in some good samaritans's pity
for the man without a head-
someone has sat upon Kyle's shoulders
a paper pumpkin
with a demonic smile
and laughing eyes

goddamn it Kyle
stop laughing at the sarcasm i treat these people to
they might see through the forced smile
the "thank you"s dripping with contempt
the careless, mechanized way i swipe these people's cards
and actually see a frustrated, tired girl
longing for the comfort of dreams

thirty minutes till break
there is no way in hell i am gonna get any work done at this pace
already as it is, i feel so tired,
i just want to fall asleep
and never wake up