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Fucked Up College Kids File 497
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= F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. =
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No Second Thoughts
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If at one time I would start to write as thinking, it would be writing too
fast and without course.
I sit, throwing my random mind onto paper, the ash growing longer all on
its own.
Pictures, pointless, nothing to do with my current pattern of thought.
Drawing a blank. It happens to the best...or so I've told myself. I want to
believe that it's true, on the coincidence that it happens to me. If I can
just convince myself, it easily, naturally, becomes truth.
No second thoughts.
Shaking, I throw my ash to its appointed dish. Throwing any thoughts.
Scribbling them onto the parchment of a supportive friend, I make no
progress because my thoughts never cease. If my hand could keep up it would
make no sense; random words slipping themselves in and out of phrases,
destroying their meaning. But as prescribed, I continue.
I clean it off but it falls into chaos.
I try to fix, but it only gets worse.
They tell me I'm smart, but a truly smart person cannot fail. They see
their mistakes before they make them, and they prevent them.
They tell me my standards for myself are too high, but if they are set by
me, why shouldn't I be able to reach them?
I only have one goal: I want to know everything. If I can know everything,
I cannot fail. I cannot forget. I do. I do. It gets lazy. I learn but I
cannot always use, so it fades.
I know so little.
Never look at the goal before you reach it. You will always be shown two
things: The fact that you have not yet reached it, and just how far you are
from it.
Every day I search, I watch, I learn.
Every day I get farther from my goal.
Everyone but me makes everything that I use at my own expense. I just don't
have the equipment, I tell myself, but someone had to make that equipment,
using equipment, which they had to have the equipment to make. Even if I
knew how to make it, I would still be where I am. Sad, because there is
still something that I do not know how to do.
I can figure out anything if I just think, but I am confident in the track
I take - even when that track is wrong. I do not consider all of the
options. I try to bend my chosen option, but it will not bend.
Everyone fails, or so I'm told, but I do not want to be everyone. I want to
be the one that sets the standard of accomplishment, then exceeds that
standard to a greater degree than does anyone else.
My hand tires of steering the pencil, but my mind races on, having had more
practice at it's trade, and needing no muscles to control it. It does the
controlling.
What controls my brain? I do. And I can fail.
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