As I sit in my room, listening to the bros and brochicas play volleyball, I realize that I am done. "With what?" I hear you ask. With the whole idea of finding what it is I think I want from life. It is time for me to get real and start doing what I need to do to get by. These senseless dreams that I am having, in which positive things are happening left and right, are for the birds. I am not trying to come off as though I am being a pessimist. While this shoe might fit me well in some situations, I have realized that my mind has been altered to the point where it can not be saved. I have allowed too many external forces to impart their wishes on me, and I am indelibly changed. No longer am I the person I want to be; I am now the person they have made me. I can change, and I am aim to do so. But for now I must deal with bigger things, like writing my fucking thesis and figuring out where and when I am going to move on to the next level of my education. To think that I am at this point capable of starting something new and exciting is foolish, and there for something only a fool would do. And my fooling around time is over.