August 29th, 1975

Dear Oliver,

University is awkward. School in general might be awkward, how would I know for sure? I’m definitely awkward, so maybe it’s just me.

Anyway, Introduction to Psychology is pretty interesting. There’s a heavier focus on politics in social work than I was expecting but I like it nonetheless. We’ve been discussing the Bill of rights in POL 101. I’d never read it before and it's a lot more thorough than I thought it’d be. I don’t remember the exact wording. I have a copy of it in one of my textbooks but I don’t feel like digging it out. I have enough textbooks, I could make a bed out of them. In the Construction of law section, it said something like “laws can’t deprive people who have been arrested of being informed of why they’ve been arrested, right to counsel, and right to challenge the validity of their arrest” It’s not written like that, but that’s what I got out of it. A lot of the rights were like that. It’s all about equality in law and I do think that’s a good thing. It still bothered me for some reason. I couldn’t figure out why during class, it took days for me to finally figure what felt so wrong about it.

It just bothers me that that’s all it protects. You have the freedom to do things like practicing a religion but you don’t have the right to things. The first line talks about life, liberty and security like everyone has a right to those things, but do we? I remember trying to sleep on a bench outside of this rundown burger king. The sign was broken and it was flashing like a strobe light so I couldn’t fall asleep. I had just drifted off when an employee came out and told me to leave. I don’t think the bench was part of their property; I remember it was there before the building was. Maybe they bought it. I wasn’t hurting anyone; I was just shivering on a bench on a cold winter night. I hadn’t eaten in god knows how long. They told me they’d call the police if I didn’t leave. I remember how the employee looked at me. It wasn’t guilt exactly, but they didn’t look like they wanted to be talking to me like that. They felt awkward. I wonder who made them shoo me off that night? The manager? Maybe the owner? I left. I don’t remember where I slept that night. I remember how bad it smelt and how it wasn’t any more comfortable than the bench was.

My rights didn’t disappear when I was homeless. I don’t think I had them in the first place. It turns out, people don’t have a right to shelter or food. You’d think “life, liberty, and security’ would include such things. Food to live, shelter for security. I have the liberty to suffer without it and the world has the liberty to turn a blind eye. It feels like my rights would be more important if I did something illegal. That’s not true, I hope it isn’t true, but it feels like it sometimes. I mean, they went on and on about rights under the law and there’s only one measly line about a right to life?

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

I’m going to write about something else. I’m just making myself angry.

Life is pretty good now. I like working in the library. I’m usually just left to myself. The air conditioning is heavenly and sorting through the books is fun. I’ve even discovered a few books I might want to check out myself while going through the returns. Cleaning the bookshelves is nice too. It’s very repetitive. You’d think it’d be more boring than it is. I’ve always been the type who enjoys getting lost in my own head. I keep a journal so I waste hours upon hours obsessing over my feelings. Besides, occasionally we do see some excitement.

Two days ago a student snuck his cassette tape into his class study session. He must have been in a history or classic lit course because he started playing this ridiculous song about Henry the eighth. “I’m Henry the Eighth, I am. Henry the Eighth, I am, I am” has been stuck in my head for days. He hid the tap in one of the bookshelves and after the professor kicked him out, we had to spend hours searching for it. He had recorded the song on both sides of the tape so it just kept repeating over and over. It was so loud it felt like the shelves were vibrating.

Mr. Maha, the assistant librarian, ripped him a new one and now he’s banned from the library for the rest of the semester. The whole thing was so stupid and I ended up behind on my sorting but honestly? I thought it was kind of funny. In the stupidest way.

When I finished my shift today, I saw the same student in the parking lot. He was talking with whom I assume was his friends. They weren’t glaring at him like everyone in his class was so I assume they liked him at least a little bit. They were the weirdest looking people. They were caked in makeup. I imagine if they pressed their faces against a white canvas it would leave a perfect replica, like a reflection in the mirror. And it wasn’t just the girls. The guys, including the student with the cassette tape, were also wearing makeup. Their lips were red and fat like applies and their eyes were outlined in thick black circles like raccoons. Their clothing was just as outlandish. Like opulent rock’n’roll hippies.

I ended up staring at them for god knows how long until they noticed me. That was awkward. This girl beside the student saw me first. I think she might have been in my psychology class. She didn’t really stand out to me then, I only remember her in hindsight. She didn’t look as, what’s the right word? Loud, kinda gaudy as the rest of them. She looked like she walked right out of 1958. She and the student were the only ones who saw me staring like a moron.

I fucking sprinted to my car and took off. I don’t know why, but my heart was racing like mad. I don’t think I’d ever been so embarrassed. Maybe I should apologize next time I see her.

Well, it’s getting late and I still need to make dinner. Thanks for listening, Oliver.