You turn the arms to the left, and the world blurs around you. When it comes to a stop, you are somewhere in the near past. You wander down the hall back to your room. Inside you are drinking a Natty and playing Halo. You walk in and tell yourself to get to work. Confused and drunk, you throw the controller at you. Future you runs up and hugs old you, telling him to calm down. You explain that you are from the future with a mission to write a paper. You've never been so close to yourself, and, in the florescent lighting of the dorm room, you notice how strong of a chin you have. You're beautiful, damnit. You pucker your lips and slowly move forward, making contact with yourself. It's amazing. You love each other. Forget school. Forget the real world, this is love.
Someone told TIME magazine about trolling and now we all just have to deal with it.
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