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.
Are you concerned that you may be a character trapped in a Tom Waits song? Be smart and learn the warning signs before it's too late. Also, it's too late. It has always been too late.
I'm haunted by a recurring vision of a skeleton flipping me off. To avoid seeing this terrifying image in bumper sticker form, I pay someone with a blank bumper to drive in front of me at all times.
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