This isn't about you. This is about me and my burden of dreams.

It is currently 2:42am and I currently supposed to be writing a paper for my communication class (I"m pretty sure this is around the 20th one this year??) but I still haven't found the drive to do it. I've decided to pull an all-nighter, so I have plenty of time to write it. I'm getting very accustomed to studying at night. I can't even concentrate until it hits midnight.

It is freezing here, literally frost giants have been stomping around on campus. Since we're right next to the lake, we get the lovely lake effect and it is ten degrees cooler here than everywhere else. Don't forget the wind! Who's looking forward to the winter? Say you are and I'm impaling you on the antennae of the Hancock Building. But I got my fancy new boots and coat to keep me toasty.

The cookies here are absolutely to die for. Literally, I don't know how much blood I have spilled this year over them. I think they're picking up on my trail.

I'm doing a bit of a stream-of-consciousness thing right now because I cannot think and I have no real point to this. So go ahead and click this out if you'd life, because I know you're tempted to. "Well, we talk to Alex every day so it's not like I'm missing out on anything." Sorrow. I feel sorrow over that. This blog has become dead. We need to post more! I'm sure Sara would love to see what's going on in your lives! And plus it's like a little present at the end of the day. At the end of the day you're another day colder. I love coming on here and seeing little presents under my sparsely-populated Christmas tree. Bring forth the Christmas goodies.

Remember that sloth post? Those were the good old days. Unfortunately, I am unable to make another one at this time. Or any time soon. Damn school. I cannot escape it. It is everywhere. OUT THE DAMN WINDOW RIGHT NOW. THERE'S THE DAMN BUILDING WITH MOST OF MY CLASSES. HA. HAHAHAHA. Iridescent lights illuminating the art deco freize, reminding me of the morning sun that is rapidly approaching. REMEMBER THAT OPOSSUM POST. Yeah, I block out painful memories, too.

HEY YOU GUYS REMEMBER THAT ONE TIME. Me neither.

I hope you guys are remembering to shower every morning. Cause I sure as hell ain't. There's no time. There's never enough time. Sometimes I forget to eat...

I forgot my toothpaste and toothbrush at home this weekend SO GUESS WHAT I could not brush my teeth these past two days. I couldn't get to CVS until today. I know what you're thinking. "Isn't getting a new toothbrush and toothpaste a priority?" No. No it isn't. Don't you ever suggest that again.

School comes first. Remember that. School always comes first. School...always...comes...*smacks head*. But I had gum, so it's okay.

Sometimes I want to eat this place.

So I was thinking, Nathaniel Hawthorne would go through periods of deep isolation, sometimes for 10 years at a time. James Joyce was an alcoholic and spent his youth wandering the streets of Dublin, contemplating his place in the world, John Keats did opium, Percy Shelley spent his life seducing impressionable young women and traveling across Europe, penniless at times. Do you see the pattern here? They were artists. They suffered, they lived, they died for their work. I'm not saying I'm gonna start doing opium and seducing young women, but I might start doing opium and seducing young women.

It feels like a summer night, where I decide that I have too much to live for tonight, so I make the decision to last the duration of it. I could have this paper done in an hour, but I don't want to sleep. For the first time, my reality is better than my dreams. Woah, is that Twilight? No, that's TFIOS. Just kidding. No. Dreams are better. Especially when they involve Sara trying to get me to drink with her and Sam Claflin (the guy who plays Finnick) trying to seduce me with his luxurious castle and red wine. That lustful grin still haunts me. To say the least, I will be absolutely terrified when I see Catching Fire, because I will remember how my mother sold me to him so he could steal my virginity. And possibly be subjected to his sex torture dungeon. Is this a sex torture dungeon??

You know how hard it is to do what you want when you have school? I want to be a marine biologist. No, you have to study for philosophy. I really want to study literature to make me a better writer. Woah there, don't forget about your geometry homework. They want you to go to college to hone your skills for your future career. We are wasting so much time with theology and anthropology when we could be doing biology labs all day to be an ecologist. We could be poring over books on the great military strategists of the Roman Empire because we want to specialize in Roman history, but instead we are doing bio labs all day. Do you see my point? They want us to be the best of the best, but they don't want us to work for it. Then they get mad when we don't succeed. I'll probably disappear sometime soon for the next ten years to contemplate my burden of dreams. You know, creating a masterpiece that high school students are gonna strangle themselves to end the misery of reading it. I do love death.

Veronica Roth started writing Divergent while she was still in college. So I figure if I start drafting now, I'll be done with it by the middle of my junior year. Then I can take the spring semester off to study abroad, you know, to let the book stew for a little while, then I'll return to my newly found success. So hopefully by the time I'm 24 I'll have a successful, New York Times bestselling trilogy under my belt and I'll have raked in millions.

What's your burden of dreams?

You know what I really love about the cookies here? They're soft, they have the consistency of moss when you press your finger into it. I hate hard cookies. Do I look like Arthur Read? No, Arthur is a disgusting aardvark who enjoys the company of his grandmother a little bit too much. The sugar cookies have a slightly buttery flavor and the chocolate chips sort of smush on your tongue. I stay away from the oatmeal cookies because, you know, oatmeal cookies. I do like oatmeal cookies, they have a nice texture, but who wants raisins mixed in with their ice cream? I'm that kid who eats ice cream three times a day with a cookie or two thrown in if I'm feeling frisky.

I'm totally gonna regret downloading all this music tomorrow.

Oh, and staying up all night. That too.

I wanted to write a story all out of my mind, but I can't think of anything, so you get an incessant stream of my thoughts.

I think sometimes you gotta walk blindly to find out what you really want to do in life. Like, I don't know what the hell I'm doing here, but I think something good is going to come out of it. I've got my burden of dreams, after all.

It's almost 4am. I have two paragraphs done for paper. Paper? For paper. My paper.

I'm sorry. You guys probably stopped reading this awhile ago. I know I would. You guys are losers for reading this far.
NO. YOU ARE NOT LOSERS. DON'T EVER LET ANYONE TELL YOU THAT.

I just really want more posts on this blog, so yes, this is pointless, but it fills up space, so I'm satisfied. Or am I? Are we ever really satisfied? Is that even achievable? Is satisfied a real word?

So, like, Joan of Arc received visions of angels telling her to lead a crusade when she was 15. She was leading a whole army by the time she was 17. What a bamf. Mozart was performing duets with Marie Antoinette at the age of 9. Christina Alexandra became the queen of Sweden when she was 6. Do you see the dilemma here? I don't get sexually or romantically frustrated. I get frustrated about the fact that I am almost 19 years old and I haven't done anything noteworthy with my life. Or something adventurous hasn't happened to me. Like, I've dealt with the real world long enough, I think I deserve to have Tobias Eaton show up at my window and take me on a nighttime adventure through the dystopian streets of Chicago. Where is my letter from Hogwarts? Put a sword in my hand, I will travel across hostile enemy lands, disguised as a boy, picking fights with roving bands of thieves, waiting for the day I can ascend the throne and avenge my parents' deaths. Maybe it's because I wasn't born in a hole...

It is 4:30am. I think they're coming for me now.