I'm writing this post from a computer in the student lounge of my community college. I felt like I was about to go insane in my College Skills class, so I stepped out. When you're inside that class, it seems as though time slows down. There's fifteen other students, and one of you. The teacher, a middle-aged lady with a loud, slow voice, seems to have time dilation powers. The way that she emphasizes ev-ery sin-gle syl-la-ble, you'd swear that forty-five minutes in a windowless room would feel like two hours. The way the class is structured gives men bad vibes. There's a few large and long desks, with four computers on each. I was the only one sitting in my row today, while the other rows were filled. When class started this morning everything seemed fine. However, when we started covering the bureaucracy of the school, with the degrees and the class numbers and so on, I felt disconnected. I could hear what she was saying, but it didn't really mean anything. I felt like I was simply occupying space, trapped in my own mind. You know how in Being John Malkovich, whenever they're inside his head, we see things from his perspective? I felt exactly like that.
One can only go so long without some connection to reality, like communication. I didn't speak much during the whole period. In fact, at home, I don't speak much at all. I just wander the hallways, in and out of rooms. I talk to myself, but it doesn't give me much solace.
What the hell is wrong with me?
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Yes, I'm still alive.