I’m going around in circles. Everything that's me has already been me'd. Everyday I get up it’s the same routine: Rub Skin, Scrub Enamel, Brush Follicles. If I have look at this mug one more time I might just cut every hair off my head and paste them against my face and jaw line. I'm reexamining everything I've ever done, every decision I've ever made, every time I've felt, even slightly, dumb. I'm in the Library checking out books I've already read and I'm wondering if I'm the only one that feels like "This world is dead.” I've turned my parents’ house into a coffee cup. I'm sitting at their breakfast table drinking. For everything they or I have ever done, that’s just one more lump in this murky liquid I've sat up. When I've mustered the stomach to finish the cup, it's constantly refilled and I'm not sure if it’ll ever stop. All these deeds, they filter back through me. Through my eyes, nose, ears, and other holes... It's clogging me up thoroughly. So I've run out of good things to say... Everything is brown, everything is smelling funny. I'm drowning from the inside out and it's washing away all my collected money. Reflecting on the actions of ancestors, myself, and my parents, I'll just move on, misguided and apparently persistent. But I'm transformed! I can no longer rewalk their path. I've been changed into a homeless beggar and I'm done with money, housing, and class. I might ready now for the future to come with all the things I've seen and done. I might be ready now that I've shed this dependency on our self proclaimed magic kingdom. But I'm in a foreign place; I'm in an unknown part of this land I don't know where I am. Surrounded by foreign friends and cares, I won't respond to this unapproving stare. Born in '83, too late to be my parents’ friend, I haven't talked to them or felt their influence in years. I'm not gonna comb my hair. I'm not gonna brush teeth. I'm not gonna wash my feet. These shoes and pants and hat, I'm not gonna wear. I'm not gonna respond to this unapproving stare. I don’t know who I am. I don't know who I am. NORMAN. Where's this place I've come to be? Is this my house, my tree, my feet, my sea? This place is too green. Where's my cell phone, where's my internet? Where's my TV? I need TV. I need my 3DTV to connect to my ISP. I need a virtual forest so I can get back to my roots. I'd go to a real one but I don't own the right kind of boots. Plus, I'm scared. I'm scared of what I might find out there. I need control. Where's the remote control?