Today is somehow.

How?

See, I went up to a boy today. 'Hello' I said. And can you imagine what he said to me?!

Ehmm, did he tell you not to disturb him?

No! He said nothing! Nothing! I was snubbed. 

But what did you want to tell him?

Nothing much. I don't know what to do with my life at this point and I learned from a course that a conversation with someone might help. So I wanted to converse with him but he snubbed. 

Do you know him?

No, but does it matter?

Of course! How can you go up to a random stranger to start talking about your life problems?

Anyways, it doesn't matter anymore. But you must help me. The world is tearing me apart. The north and the south both crave a piece of me and I'm coming apart. 

Poetry must be one of your problems. Speak well, you fool.

Don't rush me. The truth is, I don't really know what my problem is. But don't be frustrated with me yet, I can tell you something. I don't know what my problem is but I know that when I think of some things, my headache increases.

Things like what?

Things like...like, things like money, and school, and death

(Sighs deeply) What happened to money? What do you need money for?

What do I need money for?! Everyone needs money. And me especially, I'm poor, very poor.

I know, you poor rat. But what do you need money for? You're in school, and someone pays your fees. Now, even the thought of school wearies you? Why?

Someone pays my fees, but a man needs his own money. Paid fees don't feed me. And school is the thing keeping me from getting money, my money.

That is just for now. Is the hope not that, when you're done, that what you learnt in school would give you your own money?

True. But it's still a long way. I don't want to wait. If I wait, I might die. I feel like I'm wasting my time here. If I fish for money, I might fail in school; if I don't fish for money, I might die in school.

Die? You are exaggerating. Tell me, why does death give you such headache?

I don't know. Do you want to die?

No. But I do not tremble at the thought of it.

So you've resigned yourself to certain death?

Yes.

I REFUSE!!!! I refuse that I must die within a hundred years, or two hundred, or even a thousand years. I refuse to believe that I must die and rot, that is the devil's voice. 

But you will die, certainly.

No. It is not certain.

It is certain, and it is good. No one truly wants to live forever. Death is necessary. Death is good. 

My head aches now, an this is exactly the reason. I want money, I want to go to school, and I want death! So I can crush it in my hands and put it to extinction. But here I am, I have none of these. So broke, both in coin, in flesh and in mind.

Maybe you should go and sleep.

I know. You cannot help me any longer.