I bitch about everything

This bed's energy and my body's energy do not flow well together at all. I wish I had the motivation to write an eight page essay by Thursday night but it seems like the inspiration will never come. When has inspiration ever come for anything though? Is everything in life meant to be bullshit made out of more bullshit? I hate when professors talk about "great essays" written by their former students because I'm pretty sure no such essay ever existed. It's funny how I can take the time to write a blog post instead of exhausting hour after hour on Microsoft word typing prokosch uses, prokosch shows, prokosch illustrates, prokosch creates... a million times until I finally pass out.

The way my roommate snores is incredibly frustrating because each snore has a soft, quiet pop sound to it through her mouth and that's my least favorite kind of snore. It's not loud enough for me to be like "hey bitch wake up I can't fucking sleep" even though I'm not really trying to sleep right now. I want this week to be over I just want to go to Chicago and explore a whole new world and meet entirely new and fascinating people (I imagine this in my head but I really do believe it will be as amazing and new as I think it will be)