Fight for the right to rest.

Jamie Goldstein

Writing II

Prompt #10

“War does not determine who is right- only who is left.”

This is a fight to the finish. I’m sweating, shaking, I can barely think but my fingers mash the keys faster than my brain can form its thoughts. It’s not about writing a good paper anymore, its about finishing it. This isn’t my war for good grades, it’s my war for sleep. My eyelids are like anvils and my pulse seems irregular. 

Am I having a seizure? A stroke? Maybe death is just a midterm paper for social foundations II. Whatever- As I said, I don’t even care how I do anymore, I just need the words to be gone. I need to stop needing to think and in this war I will not lose. I cap off my seventh page with a resoundingly awful finisher, but this is war, and I’m not looking to play nice.

My stomach growls. Hunger. Shit, I think I forgot to eat this week. Oh well, I guess I’ll just go to dollar pizza. Fuck, where’s my change? No way in I’m breaking my last twenty on two dollars of pizza. Wait! there’s a quarter under my bed! 

5th Ave to 9th st, 8th, 6th Ave, half a block further, almost dying, heart racing. This is a war against hunger. PIZZA! Tear into that sucker. Two minutes, two slices, done. Run back. Printer’s finally done. Hit the bed. Sleep. SHIT, I can’t. Why did I drink 16 ounces of Redbull?

Fuck.

Well, I guess it’s war, and tonight, I lost. The work wasn’t right, but my sleep wasn’t left.