Survival Of The Fittest.

My alarm sounds at noon, and drowsily, I reset it for one o' clock.
I pull the blanket over my head.
My alarm sounds at one in the afternoon, I nudge Megan, try to wake her for work.
She tells me to give her ten more minutes. I tell her she has to be at work at two.
I tell her she can't be late again. She tells me she wasn't late yesterday, which I don't understand,
because she dropped me off in Willow Lawn at twenty to four and had to make it all the way to Short Pump by four, herself. She drives much too fast.
I tell myself I can get at least an hour more if I try, but I relent, swallow amphetamine, start my day off with the breakfast of champions.
I have to be at work by four, I have to take the bus. I want to go to Rumors, I want that sweater I saw a few days ago, I want to spend all of my money, run up my credit card. A credit card at eighteen was a bad idea, I won't lie to you.
I enter the bathroom, hit the switch, the light flickers and blows. I decide that it's light enough to go without, I turn the knob and wait until the water is hot enough. I open iTunes, start a playlist, sit and write this.
I'd give anything to re-do this semester, a semester abroad, in the heart of the south.
Too distracted, too naive, lacking motivation. I listen to Brand New, my MacBook in my lap. I set it on the bathroom sink, turn the volume all the way up. I want to forget, pretend that everything is okay.
I tell myself that this is Survival Of The Fittest.
I tell myself that I simply have to get by, survive.
Jesse screams into a mic, "I can't shake this little feeling I'll never get anything right."
This is Survival Of The Fittest.