you and i are the same

there is a moment when you find yourself gnawing on twizzlers as if they were soft, heavenly cakes of mana when you realize that you have become a monster. it is eight-thirty at night, and you have just broken your brain trying to learn about secured transactions, which is a subject people teach in law school because it's on the bar exam, and because God hates you. there is another moment when you argue with yourself about God hating you, but then you remember He really does hate you, and with good reason, because you haven't cracked your bible in months and you have no patience for anything except your own insistent complaining and the sound of your own voice.

this is where you panic about getting on a small plane tomorrow evening and flying to chicago for your interview tomorrow, because you haven't been grateful or thankful enough about the many blessings and wonders in your life, and you hate to fly, and then you become convinced that the plane will crash and you will die.

so you spend some time on your knees before bed, praying to Jesus that you will be safe and alive and sound this weekend, as you fly to there and fly back. and then as an afterthought you pray a little bit about your interview, but you haven't thought at all about it really because you're more worried about all the other shit you're wasting your time with.

and you do feel like you're wasting your time, especially when you think about your life, because there are so many wonderful and good things in the world, or at least, a lot of actual real living to do, and you feel like you're not doing much of that at all. you really just feel like you read and re-read and work and go on the internet and check your email and sit at that table and finish your projects and panic about your papers and go home at night to play video games for a bit until you fall asleep.

but you wash your face first with stuff, because you're breaking out these days what with the stress. and you wash your hands, but carefully, because you have a lot of papercuts.

and you haven't talked to anybody in a long time, not a real conversation anyway, nothing beyond you going through the reasons why you feel so tired and then listening a little bit on the other end. but that's okay, because nobody calls you to see how you're doing, since they've all got their own shit. or if they don't, well, that's just okay with you, isn't it? because it really has to be.

but then you remember: it's just this week that's been so intense, because you'll be gone for the weekend, right, and you're internalizing all your stress about the interview, and you do have the papers due but you'll be okay, you know, it'll be just fine. but all that's sort of fleeting and weak, because it's a lot easier to choose to die, spiritually of course (and here's where you panic again about the plane), than to live and believe that God really loves you a lot and will keep you safe. yes, right? right.