Last night I woke up at about 11:30 p.m. to the sounds of the computer beeping at me incessantly. The power had gone out. I stayed up to the ungodly hour of 2 a.m. until the lights returned and I was able to set my pathetic excuse of an alarm clock for 6 in the morning so as not to miss my buss.

As the already doomed day progressed I found myself falling into an apathetic drain of emotion. I look in the mirror and think of what a mindless drone I must be to take on the opinions of the world without question or regard for how absurd they may be. A sheep. That is how I can be described. I am as mindless and aimless as a sheep.

I find myself drowned in book after book, constantly looking for a new outlook on life to accept or to accommodate into my own ideals. Perhaps I devour philosophy as a means to understand why I am standing here. How am I meant to understand it though, when most cannot be objected to, but there is an equally witty thought that contradicts it? The constant debate of who said what and what he or she meant by it is a constant battle of minds of people who have none, and who have nothing better to do but squabble about giving credit too long dead philosophers when their own ideas are usually snatched from the fools who confide in them about their thoughts before proclaiming them to the public.

Who will write what next, and whom will it be stolen from? All the good ideas are gone, so the intelligent outcasts of our time find ways to rewrite what has already been said without adding anything new. Sound like any place we know?