this will be our lives for the rest of now

this is what has become of me. note the notes of anxiety in the face and eyes, and in the way I am skittishly placed in a place never far from the computer. this is the academic factory where I will act away the rest of my life until Friday, when every paper is produced, every candle burned, and every bit of poverty pushed out of the land of the living. until then, I shall be half-alive, crushed under the weight of my awaiting imagination, the impending steps of structured learning, and the rain-globe of Chapel Hill.

and this is just Matt being Matt:

it is clear that we have both been engulfed and what's more to come is to come undone. oooooooh fun!