My Grandpa died yesterday. My last living grandparent and I feel a whole lotta nothing about it. I feel like I'm rooting around in my purse trying to find something that I KNOW is in there, it's just hidden under all the other junk. I will be sad about it, I just don't know when. He died two years and day after my father's stroke and exactly three years after I went on my first date with one of my boyfriends, I know this because I asked him and I have a thing for anniversaries even when they're so egregiously irrelevant.
School is wearing me down. I hate having to write papers about things I don't care about. I hate discussing things that are intangible. I hate that I don't thirst for knowing the way I used to, that everything seems mildly boring when it's not towards a goal. My graduation is so inevitable that I am resentful I have to work for it. The droning complaints of a 21-year-old girl. Sometimes I look at the wide-eyed freshman, still blinking from the womb, and wonder how long it takes before they become as jaded as me.
I read a sign this weekend that said "In order to buy cigarettes, you have to have been born on this day in 1989, or earlier." 1989? Shit. I am so old.
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