Because my mind is roaming.
I wonder why bats come out only at night. I think to write a bat story, but I have not done fiction this year.
I wonder if my paper tomorrow will be like the one I had today, where you study twenty chapters and the five questions you should answer are from two chapters only. Is it allowed to sue examiners for torture?
Thoughts of lecturing stroll through my mind, I wonder what happened to that dream. I wanted to be a lecturer badly, there is a certain joy I enjoy from sharing knowledge. But then, who doesn’t know there is a box with about 37 more things I want(ed) to be.
Then, I think of orgasms.
It’s just my mind roaming, I tell you.
Orgasms is a nice place to end this roaming. I am tempted for a moment to stretch and set the process in motion to obtain one. But I know I shall not be answered.
It’s my fault.
The last time I left my books and went to pinch and tickle, the aftermath threw me into a deep sleep. I woke up dazed the following morning
“Did you still wake up to study?”
“Study? What books?”
Why do the sleeps from there go so deep?
Tomorrow is my last paper. I’m exhausted, mentally. I am glad, but I dread the files that have piled on my desk from my leave.
Can monday crawl here, ever so slowly, please?
My mind roams back to orgasms. There is a box of cottonbuds within arm’s reach. I reach for one.
Do you know, that the twisting and turning of that thing in your ear is another pleasurable wonder?
I’ll be fine with this one, even ear cleaning orgasm is orgasm.
1.40am, Lagos, Nigeria,