A time of change is drawing near. My first class Wednesday, September 10th and with it the end to my "easy" summer. Back to night class already tired from a day's work, maintaining consciousness through a steady intake of Red Bull. This weekend is my last weekend of freedom and me I'm dead broke. I have some change in my pocket, not quite enough to get a vending machine snack. I need to drink this weekend because my future weekends will be spent in the library, in the computer lab or holed up in my apartment. "Sorry I can't go out tonight, I have a project deliverable due midnight and I haven't even started the first draft..." I check the balance on my card, the fucker is close to the max. Where the fuck did I spend all my money?

And women, don't even get me fucking started. Do you know how fucking long it has been since I've even been on a date? It's been a seriously fucking long time. I have no idea when or even if I will have sex. I have no idea who it will be with. Women are the gatekeepers of sex, they hold the key, they decide to let me in. I remain an outcast, condemned, a sexual leper, an "untouchable". If things go the way they have been I'm staring at the possibility of celibacy for the remainder of my life. Is this why guys become priests or monks? Perhaps I should join the "Holy Order of the Unsexed". I can be the patriarch, knowing full well that there will be no challenge to celibacy. I will rule with a powerful right arm, it has to be powerful to keep my equally powerful sexual desire in check. All will kneel and tremble before my unconsummated horniness...

I seriously need to get some of my "sick" off. I wonder if the devil still makes those pacts, riches beyond belief, really cool material possessions and abundant carnal pleasures in exchange for my eternal soul. Wait, what the fuck does it say on this fine print about my penis being roasted in the eternal fires of hell? Fuck that shit... Maybe I can pull a short-term contract. Perhaps some weekend money or an open bar party and a one-night stand with a supermodel whose name I can't pronounce who has just flown in from Milan on a weekend photo shoot. What does that cost nowadays, one year of unspeakable suffering in hell, maybe two? Wait a minute, I am in hell. Where's my damn merchandise? Fucking bitches always trying to rip me off. Where did I put that contract signed in blood? Bastards...