The other day I read one of my friend’s books, and she didn’t understand what I meant when I said, “This character is supposed to be me, right? Their thought pattern should be more spazztic then.” So, here it is. This is exactly what I meant.
Note: These are my actual thoughts at random points throughout the day. My sister would text me randomly and I’d record my thoughts. I tried to keep them as close to my actual ones as possible.
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Am I a robot? *Alarm Goes Off* I’m totally a robot. A robot who’s low on fuel. *Sets Ten Minute Timer & Goes Back to Sleep*
*Alarm Goes Off to Get Ready* . . . Just . . . just one more page. I just need to edit. One. More. Page. *Sips Coffee* I can totally do this.
Where’s the moon? It’s normally over there . . . or was it over there? . . . . Ain’t no mountain high enough, ain’t no cloud thick enough~! Gawd, I’m hilarious. Op, there’s my bus. Greaat.
If I were an acid, what kind of acid would I be? Why an acid? . . . How many moles of hydrochloric acid would be made from a mole of Mg at STP? . . . I have a better question: where fore art thou, Google?
¿Por qué tomo la clase de español cuando no puedo hablarla? Eh . . . más or menos. ¡No necessito que trabajar con mi pareja! . . . ¡Personas estúpidas! ¡Personas estúpidas en todas partes!
(Why do I take a Spanish class when I can’t speak it? Ehh . . . sort of. I don’t need to work with my partner! . . . Stupid people! Stupid people everywhere!)
(Customer Service Class) Customer Bob doesn’t want your help, but you know he’s going in the wrong direction. What do you do? Write the roleplay. Well, since Bob and I are roleplaying, obviously I get out my whip and handcuffs and teach him how to ask for directions. . . No, I doubt Mr. XYZ would like to read that.
I’ll just say aloud that the organic produce is in aisle O and that I have work to do there, and hopefully Mr. Bob will follow. Yeah, that sounds practical.
I need a hammer. A giant one. *Another Person Cuts Me Off* A freaking cartoon-sized hammer. Be like Wily the Coyote but with more skill and better planning. That Explicative fowl isn’t gonna be alive for long. I wonder . . . is today’s society making kids more violent? Whatever, I just want my hammer.
(My eat with teachers time)
Oh, look there’s the transphobic “phobic means fear and only fear” butt face. Wonder if today he’ll be as big of a hypocrite as usual. Pffftt is that even a question? No, no it is not . . . My hammer should come with spikes.
Isn’t it scary how conformative adults can be while criticizing the lack of individuality of my generation? It is scary, Amelie. Oh, thank you, me, I thought I was the only one! Oo, look my lunch is here! I love food ❤
What kind of taste would an adjective have? I imagine all things related to sentence structure are soul-curdlingly bitter.
No, please do go on about how you can’t find a “connection” with a girl while staring right. At. Me. And while you’re at it, go ahead and notice that I’m looking in the opposite direction to fully appreciate a blank space!
This is exhausting. Trying not to laugh while eavesdropping is like convincing my stomach to not growl in the middle of a silent test period . . . ah, damn, I laughed at my own genius, now they must know I was listening. Aw they’re trying to include me~ move along, scum, I still hate you all! Aww but you have food!
Science. Science. That girl is pretty. Science. Science. But she’s so annoying. Why can’t pretty people be nice people? Because that’d be unfair. True, me, very true. Science. Science. Science. Maybe she’s nice deep, deep, deep, deep down . . . and letters will soon be taken out of math. Bah! Science. Science. Science. Science.
So, what you’re telling me is: I can solve a log without a calculator, but I’ll have a calculator during the test? *Scribbles Out Notes* Yeah, I’m just gonna use my calculator, thanks.
FREEEDOOM! *Gets Cut Off* Explicative, where is my hammer?!
Plot. Plot. Plot. Wait . . . what da hail is that? Is that a coffee stain? Genius, past self! *Makes Coffee & Dances Back to Laptop*
Why do my characters hate me?! I just want you to follow the plot, Caprice. Just follow the plot, Caprice! Amaya’s following the plot. Why can’t you?!
When’s dinner? I want pizza. No, not pizza. A sandwich. A laarge sandwich. With guacamole . . . Never mind, pizza’s good.
What is love? Baby don’t hurt me (don’t hurt me) no more. Caprice, please don’t hurt me (don’t hurt me) no more! . . . Shot through the heart and you’re to blame, you give wolves a bad name (bad name). I do my part and you play your games. You give wolves a bad name (bad name)!
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After that, all my thoughts were completely unintelligible and mainly focused on my character being a total butt to the beat of random songs. So, I figured this was enough of a sample. This kind of makes me seem like I have a short attention span, but on the outside no one can tell so it’s fine. This’ll just be our little secret, you, me, and anyone else on the internet on this fine, bright day (unless it’s dark where you are). Well~
Ciao for Now,
~ Amelie J. Hyde