I'm Not Ready Yet.

Sleep will come and tomorrw will bring dehydration. My stomach hurts from the beer and even more from the cigarettes. I over did that again. My poor body shouldn't be this reliable.

There's a subtle alliance in these people. I don't know how strong it it. It's there though. I haven't determined if we genunely like each other or if circumstance forced us together. My gut tells me the former, but then again, my gut aches from abuse.

Will I make it to class? The evidence seems contrary, but who cares. I feel, free. Or at least freer (if such things can be quantified),

I hope the small town bar invasion is successful, or at least amusing. If we do it right we'll be sprinting for our vehicle to make a get away. If we do it wrong we won't have anything to mock at the Union steps.

These musings make me feel closer to something. Like I'm actually a writer and not a guy who likes to write. Growing old will be hard. But when my grandchildren ask me what college was like, I won't have to say I studied until I met your grandma.

And maybe that's the meaning of life.