Eating the worm (part II)

The alarm went off at 07:00, as it was supposed to. At 07:10 I opened first one eye, then the other, before quickly closing them both. I was awake, I knew it, but I didn't want to be. No chance of sleeping now, my brain awash in chemical messages and electronic impulses, time to face the day.

Have you ever wanted to sleep your way through life? Spending your days in dreams, instead of spending your days trying to achieve your dreams? Every morning is a battle between conciousness and unconciousness, dream and reality. Unfortunately, conciousness always seems to come out on top. You can't sleep forever. So I get up only to be reminded of why I was awake at such an obscene hour of the morning in the first place...

University seemed like such a great idea when I was in high school. I looked at it as an opportunity to get out of the cage they had put me in, finally get my teeth into the meat of human knowledge, instead of spending my days in remedial classes. I spent most of high school in special classes of one description or another, despite my 151 IQ and the fact that I was obviously a creative genius, revolutionary trial blazer, and quite possibly the worlds next messiah. When I told my english teacher this, who I trusted more than any other teacher in the school, she was terribly sympathetic. Then the school performed all these tests and sent my mum this big report that basically said I exhibited schizoid tendancies and had quite serious behavioral difficulties, which is a bullshit PC way of saying I wouldn't take any of their shit. I remember sneaking into my mum's room to read the report and feeling awfully pleased with myself that I had caused such a fuss. Now, I just wished I'd kept my mouth shut.

Now that I was actually there, in university, the supposed fountain of knowledge, I realised it was just another training ground for society's comatose, a place where you learnt how to be a more valuable meat puppet than those who ended their education at 16. All in all the realisation was a bit of a let down, but uni still had its advantages. For starters, it was much better than working which, in my limited experience of thing, had taught me it was the antithesis of the soul, and at least you had a choice. You had no one forcing you to go to lectures, it was completely up to you.

I figured the reason I kept turning up was because I had nothing better to do.

Actually, that's a lie.

[To Be Continued]