Confinement

My name is Tom Black, and I was awoken suddenly this morning in the midst of an unexpected transcendental fit of anxiety coupled with a deep-rooted foreboding sensation I felt in the pit of my very soul. It turned out it was only hiccups, but I was a little shaken from the episode nonetheless.

Since it was Saturday, I had a complete twenty-four hour time frame to shirk all responsibility I had, and laze around in my prison cubicle of a dorm room counting the time down until I could become inebriated. Despite the complete lack of anything happening, I found it hard to concentrate on any arbitrary task I set my mind to. The monotony was confining. I was trapped where I was with my roommate, who is more of a giant house cat than another human capable of interaction, and I believe that he has contributed to my sense of unease. He has sat immobile as a monument to indolence in his bed for the past six hours. He's the type of guy who can sit in his bed and watch advertisements on the TV guide channel slack jawed, content to let meaningless information assault his brain in exchange for looking at something that's moving. Much to my chagrin, he was doing exactly that when I walked in the door. His goldbricking was a powerful presence, and every time I happened to glance over at him I had an incredible urge to beat him and everything around me with a table leg. It was as if our combined lethargy formed a giant unseen monolith, which had to have created a rift in space that was pushing human progress backward. We were actively destroying production in our quest to achieve nothing, which we pursued with much vim and ardor. I felt as if somehow my roommate and I had caused the entire economy to crash because we were doing so much nothing -- the repercussions had to grand.

Regardless of the unnerving edge I felt because of our slothfulness, I still had no motivation to do anything. I was content to suffer.

The earth is nothing but a cold chunk of rock, hurtling through space at thousands of miles an hour all the while being plunged into a maelstrom of utter chaos and depravity by the very humans who inhabit it. I spent another two hours pondering this, then spent another hour trying as hard as possible to listen to phonemes emanating from the television, and then I got a soda. I came back to my room to behold my roommate had not shifted an inch in or out of his bed and wanted to throw him out the window and then leap myself, following his plummet to doom. I didn't however, with no small amount of restraint on my part, and instead sketched out a clown riding a merry go round in a cornfield in my sketchbook.

Overall, it was a good day -- but I could be utterly wrong because I'm slowly descending into madness and despite the fact I recognize it, it's still happening.

I'm only going mad because it's autumn however, and everyone starts going insane in autumn.