I will have become the post-graduate, who by sheer terror, boredom, anger, frustration, melancholy, or witty intelligence, decided to terminate my indefinite subscription to higher learning; I will opt to drop out of the University of Yellow Wallpaper, owing to the fact that the voices have strongly suggested I cease listening to the anterior voices, who whisper, "you are an infantile wish fulfillment...Samuel Beckett was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1969," which bemuses me, of course, and yet I had willingly concurred, hoping to further annoy my professor who didn't particularly appreciate the (futile?) comments about his failed attempt not to phallisize the emasculated re-inscription of the body in the text.
Oh well! In my present moment, it is a great fortune to breathe consciously from time to time...
Breathing in, I calm my body.
Breathing out, I smile.
Dwelling in the present moment,
I know this is a wonderful moment!
I know this is a wonderful moment! I know this is a wonderful moment!