a room of work

i am in a room of work. all around me, there are workpiles everywhere - folders, files, papers, notes and notepads and notebooks and note-taking materials. there are just so much notes here.

i am in my mothers office.its not really her's but the things here make it look like its her's.

i am here because i 'drove' her here.

i am here because she was 'tired'.

i am gonna be here for 2 hours. or unless i go to jill's.

being here makes me wonder when im actually going to be Here. When will arrive at that point in my life where I will be in a place such as Here.

when will i work?

why do i hafta work?

can i..

not work?