At the Library (Pt. I)

I am a poor time-keeper, but I know that much time has passed and much has happened since I entered the library, which has become almost like a home to me. Where to start? I already have. My phone died, strange to use such language for inanimate things… of course one could ------ stay on point fool… yes, well, when my phone died I was rightfully confused. Why was it not working? Had I done something wrong? I fiddled with it for a while, but to no avail. I panicked, felt despair fill me, felt ashamed for feeling both the former and the latter, fiddled with it again, felt panic and despair and shame again, and then I was at a loss. I had lost my voice and I failed to understand why.

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What was I going to do? My journey to the library now seemed meaningless. Why learn about something that I wouldn’t be able to share? How weak I am. Sad that minor things devastate me. A depressed zombie. Life is so terrible, what’s the point in carrying on? Woe is me. How insincere those words must read from one who is not undead. Indeed, there is much that I have learned, but I digress yet again. Truth be told, when I finally realized that my phone was not going to start up again, I had wished that I could crawl into some corner and cry in despair (emotional am I?), but I knew I couldn’t. How awkward I must have looked standing there in an empty library, beams of late afternoon sunlight streaming through the clerestory windows, phone in hand, a strange expression wrought upon my face. Truly pitiful.