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?
