Thoughts while sitting on a cold surface
I’m sitting on a ledge trying to write a paper. I figure if I can’t work this shit out by the end of the day I might as well jump off and hug the rocks with my brain. There are dead leaves at my feet, and a large crack right next to me. There are ants in that crack. Ants have a way of making the best of what they get in life. I can also see little pieces of colored paper, remnants of better days gone. There’s a nature preserve down this cliff thing, it has frogs and foxes and rabbits. I wish there were lions or bears down there. Or a yeti. I’d investigate but I’m worried someone will steal my laptop, see my old writings and mock me on reddit.
It’s nice here, even though I’m sure someone is staring at me from the window on my left. Glaring at me with big eyes and an open mouth. Wondering who I am and why I’m hunching over worse than Quasimodo. Chewing a cheese and cucumber sandwich and thinking, half ashamed, I wish this girl would fall.
I wish I had a moose.