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The Endless Scribble This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

I’m so tired. I’m not sure if it’s physical, or mental. But my mind is racing. It’s almost like everything it has absorbed is in a jumble, like headphones that have spent the day in a disorganized purse and need tremendous untangling. I feel like someone took a crayon and scribbled illegible words across it, or thousands of twisty lines that are supposed to mean something; something I don’t appear to understand. See, school is almost out, and that’s exciting and what not, but this week is going real slow. And I have loads of homework and quizzes and a job outside of school. Oh, and being a teenager, I also have a social life to keep up, though that’s never really been a big factor in my life. All of this sounds pretty normal except I can’t keep track of it all. I have to remember a schedule in school that has just recently changed as of about a month ago, and I have unholy mounds of odd tidbit projects due before too long. Some teachers seem to have run out of things to do with us, and others are just trying to cram in what they couldn’t earlier in the year for whatever reason. Those things obviously aren’t mixing well.

On Tuesdays and Thursdays I have a job at a law firm, which means difficult work being learned after a seemingly endless day at the local hypnotic prison known as “school”. Although it’s only two days a week, two hours each day, and I haven’t been working lately, it’s wholesome hell. My boss drives me up the wall with his whimsical requests and dreary lessons in being a filing clerk. I really don’t care, actually, to be a filing clerk. I quite honestly don’t believe anyone does. But money is money, even if I have to kick myself in the ass to make it. Maybe my boss in is the mischievous feign who is scribbling in my mind with an unbelievably long lasting crayon. It wouldn’t surprise me one bit.

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