Confessions II

by mudrhetoric

I don’t think I could tell you a single that I liked.
I don’t think I could explain to you why I am reading the books I am reading.
I can’t even explain what it is that I am here.
In the class.
Sitting here.
Doing nothing.
Accomplishing nothing.
Achieving nothing.

I’m in New Mexico – for what reason?
I’m getting a PhD – for what reason?
I don’t know anything.
Other than that I am angry.
I see no point.

(This is pointless, but less.
pointless than what I’m going
through now, so slightly less
pointless, but pointless
nonetheless.)

(None of it makes sense to
me.)

(I simply am a collection of
useless facts, useless
knowledge, uselessness. That
can be a virtue. Can’t it?
Being useless. Useless here.
Maybe, I’m less useless
elsewhere, but I’m here.
Cowering.)

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