and no one can stop me

i hesitate as i get off the subway at my old stop. it's been months, i think, years perhaps, and just last week i met a friend, but the pavement seems wrong now. me walking down the street is like a neck, broken and laying at a funny angle, it seems ok but then feels a bit creepy. and dead.

part of me hates being here. resents that i have no right to enter the buildings (my ID only works in non-exclusive buildings, ones you don't have to swipe into, so i still see my adviser and play piano in the steinhardt building, i'm beating the system somehow, suckers!), resents that the people i pass walking down the street get to go to class or not go to class and have readings and are able to complain about assignments and dread going to the library, resents that all my work and effort and jumping through hoops and pulling my hair out and being miserable will only put me back on their level and get me to graduate and i will have worked so hard to just keep up and then what? i want it and they have it and they don't even know.

but there is mettle in my bones and iron in my blood and even my bruises are cleaner than their milky skin, and "i cannot be stopped from looking with pity upon all the world's sorry inhavitants, they unblessed by my charms, unchallenged by my trials, unscarred and thus weak, gelatinous" (dave eggers said it first, and he was right, and people bought his book and allowed him the arrogance, so there).

i am dangerous! i am daring and immortal! i am wearing lipstick in a non-ironic way and this is owed me and someday everything will belong to me.