And there you are and you're 26 1/2 and even though you've always dreamt of being an artist you've had to abandon that dream because being an artist doesn't pay the debt that being an artist accrues. An there you are and you're 26 1/2 and every day you see that your circle of friends decreases in circumference more and more each day. And every time you move you notice that r is a constantly shifting variable, regardless of the constancy of pi. And you know that all you need to do to fix the ebb is to dial a few numbers... but part of you, a majority part, doesn't care. Even with the minorty screaming at the injustice of a 26 1/2 year old society. And there you are and you're 26 1/2 and your life doesn't resemble a photograph in a trendy magazine. And your accoutrements aren't set dressing and your surroundings aren't interiorly designed. Even though you are an artist... or rather, were... because tense is the only understandable variable. And there you are and you're 26 1/2 and you masturbate furiously just because you saw down the blouse of some service station girl, and you eat too much because who's looking, and you don't drink at all because drinking is only good for pain. Nothing will take away numb apathy. And there you are and you're 26 1/2 and realize that not only have you been asleep for 8 years... but that you're still asleep and not only can't you wake up, but you are aware that you not only can't wake up and have no desire to. And there you are and you're 26 1/2 and you have no passions or desires anymore. You have no dreams or wants or wishes. All that you know is that there you are and you're 26 1/2.