I've upped my doses of chamomile tea, and I think it's helping. I open my mouth to scream, but I can't ever. All I hear is a growl, like a wolf choked by a leash. I talk to myself at Starbucks, and other partners listen in and they interrupt my personal conversations. I've resorted to covering Julie Andrews songs, from the Sound of Music and Mary Poppins. Also the Beatles and a little Bob Marley. When I'm especially high on caffeine, I'll make up my own rhymes -- out loud and on the fly. I try to engage customers. I don't even look at them. I wake up from Africa and realize their double tall latte, however much they desire it, is insignificant. My job as a barista is not to make coffee; my job is to validate people. When you order a drink and I say "yes," I've given you control of my life. You are a higher human being because I've sold my time to you for three fifty four.
It's eighty degrees in my room. There's a court date tomorrow. I'll be back in court for Jury duty soon. Whitworth withdrew some of their financial aid. I don't know where I'm going to live in Spokane.
I'm twenty one and I want to smoke my pipe. I'm twenty one and fearless (I have nearly nothing to lose). I'm twenty one and I never answer my cell phone. I'm twenty one and I'm just that much closer. I need to go. My days are running together.