College is an unknown to me. It is ever ebbing, flowing, fro, and to hither and thither. And I stand, no, hang as they hover, their lives flashing before my very eyes, a blur, a smooth yet pretty distortion of who they are and what they are doing. And I? I am a blur too. The whole world is ablur, amok, mocking itself. And the only sharp objects are my eyes, two bright bloodshot, round eyes, sitting atop a bounding blur of motion, dripping salty tears at the swaying of a waxing day, trying to stay straight, or up, or forward, or something, but always looking, always piercing, rarely seeing things for what they are.
I really must stop reading Beckett. :)