Later you can carry me home
The sun is shining, the air is pollen-y, and my life is slowly imploding. If it weren’t so hilarious, I would probably be inclined to worry. My Monday mornings begin around 5:20am when I roll myself out of the top bunk and get ready to volunteer. It’s pitch darkness and I’m usually only one of two passengers on the bus—which always manages to be about 10 minutes late.
My day got progressively more awesome as I got called out while volunteering and called a yuppie and a fascist. I am in truth neither of these.
Anyways, the rest of my day was filled with fail and sunshine, ASUC candidates and Jamba Juice, regret and serenades.
Nothing left to lose. Not my head, not my dignity, not my dinner.
