Spilling My Guts
by T.G. Clown
It is 2:53 a.m. and I cannot fall asleep. My intelligent suitemates don't realize that there are people who have class at 8:00 a.m.and that they need to go to sleep. As a result of their ignorance, the bastards stupidly go in and out of our suite slamming the heavy black door that weights about 40 pounds. Furthermore, I am now hungry, which is making me more furious.
My suitemates have finally quieted down and now I am going to write my first draft. I am writing my paper lying down on this old mattress in a dark room with my three subject Pen-Tab notebook resting on my stomach with my eyes closed. I usually write when I am angry. Anger brings out my temper and sarcasm, which are two things people least expect from me. I also like to complain when I write, but I figure that that
it's annoying to read someone complaining. Therefore, I try to give my complaining a back seat.
When I am writing I need silence; otherwise, I lose my concentration or forget what I was thinking. I also don't like it when people try to start a conversation when I am writing or stare when I write because it is annoying. As a result, I'll be a mute and not answer them back. Furthermore, my first draft is a complete chaos. It has numerous cross-outs and arrows; however, I like the way it looks. For me, it is a symbol of spilling my guts. I have said what I wanted to say! Then I'll write my second or third or fourth draft to organize and clear up my materials. Finally, I'll put my work away and read it a month later. I generally hate what I wrote because it sounds so stupid. I am never really satisfied with my work. There are only few writings that I am actually proud of.
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