What I do in class (rather than paying attention)

Tick…tick……tick………each passing second longer than the previous. Miserable, distant faces and half-shut eyes think of what might be going on beyond these walls during these two hours – the fun that could be had, the much-needed sleep. This is a brutal test of stamina, a chance to experience misery. Stephen Crane would be proud. A look around the room and it’s like a wax museum of college students; bodies that appear so life-like with nothing going on inside. Just a hollow existence. I pay thousands for this.

If Death were to interrupt the droning and request my presence, there is no way I could jump faster out of my seat.

“Take me with you, please!” I would say, on my knees, clutching to Death’s black robe. A cool wave of satisfaction would sweep over me as an eternally important hand reaches my shoulder, ending my existence.

“Turn to page 1050.”

Each one of us turns the thin slice of paper, not so we can read along or figure out some vague sense of meaning. We turn it to make sure we are still alive, still present in this boredom, only wishing a jolt of anything would wake us up in the comforts of something inviting, which at this point could be a bed of rusted nails.

If I am correct in my assumptions, and this truly is Hell in its highest form - I repent! I repent!