. w . h . y .

I like to think there is a point to all this ..
I like to think that one day I will look back and make sense of it ..

I lie in bed at night,
trying to stay awake
so that I can finish those last few paragraphs of Chapter Ten,
my eyelids quivering;
the radio playing softly by my side ..

I suddenly become alert as my favorite song comes on ..
I smile, sing the words ..

At 1:30 I finally decide it's time to sleep ..
As I turn off the radio all is quiet
except for the thunder in the background,
the lightning flashing patterns on the floor ..

It is then that I begin to ponder ..
What's the sense in life ?

Why can't I read any faster ?
Why is music so powerful ?
Why are these walls so thin ?
Why do I write my S's backward ?
Why do I regret my past ?
Why do I regret the present ?
Why do I regret my future ?
Why am I so weak
mentally, and physically ?
Why do I have such an urge to stick it to the man ?
Why did I have to get stuck with such bad genes ?
Why am I so nice ?
Why do I still dream about you ?
Why am I afraid to go back to school tomorrow ?
Why can't I keep my eyes off her ?
yet Why am I afraid to talk to her ?

Why do I think so much ?

I used to think there was a point to all this ..
Now I look back and I see that I was mistaken