I hate New York City. No, I don’t. But I do. Maybe I just like Brooklyn. But I don’t really want to live there. I like living in Harlem. Except there’s nothing to do in Harlem. There isn’t enough nature here. Why isn’t it warm enough outside? That person just sneezed into their hand and touched the pole. Did I bring my hand sanitizer with me? Maybe I’ll just remember to keep my hands in my pockets until I find the closest McDonalds. I should fill out my FAFSA. I’m behind on my tuition again aren’t I? Would Flashdancers hire me? I wonder how creepy those Craigslist Sugar Daddies really are? Maybe I’ll apply for this awesome job…that pays nothing. Good thing these “Honey Nut O’s” are fortified with iron because I just ate the whole box in one sitting. I was pretty in California. Am I not pretty here? Why are these bitches constantly talking over me? Why are they in my program? Is it wrong to call women bitches? Like really? Meh, who cares. Bitches it is. Do I need a man to live in my first real apartment with me? I don’t really want to share and I couldn’t do weird things like procrastinate in front of him. Maybe I’ll start my paper tomorrow. How would I decorate my first real apartment? I should buy a cast iron skillet? What’s going on with my dopamine receptors? Is my brain okay? Can I change my brain chemistry with sheer will? I’m gonna Google that. Am I sad? Shouldn’t I be happy? I think I’m happy. Maybe I just need more sugar. Apple juice.