Why must I go on?

I got one hour of sleep last night. That's being optimistic. Couldn't rid my mind of Ponymania, as I have dubbed it. No words can describe the dissonance within me.

I'm in a study room on campus. I have been studying for the American Government CLEP test. I feel sick now.

I reflect on the near-stream-of-consciousness poem I wrote last night. No, it was not entirely stream of consciousness. Those words were reflective of my feelings.

I don't want to get up. I don't want to see anybody anymore. People need not even look at me any more.

The world is cruel and dark. People don't change that. In futility, I get ready to get up and get in line, hoping to resolve a bloody out-of-state problem on my brother's tuition fee.

I don't want to go on any more. I'm tired of pulling myself up by my bootstraps ('Murika). I am tired of maintaining hope: hoping that tomorrow will be different.

"I don't feel like working any more. Is that ok?"

"...Smile smile smile, fill my heart up with sunshine, sunshine."

One cannot smile if he is devoid of hope. There is no light where there is darkness...stale, merciless silence.