A kid with little to say is all I'll ever be, but I do have the Infinite inside my head. So it was never a matter of writing more; if you can't believe a drop, that means you don't really believe the Ocean. And it's not even a matter of already having the Bond; a friend is going to believe in you, see a Future for you Out there, as soon as he spots the search in you. I might have falsely imagined you had a spiritual aspiration, but the truth is you are as "religious" as your wicked "sister". You've taken many drops you didn't deserve to hear as completely nonsense; so it's not Him you trust and I can't trust you either. You are faithless and self-sufficient, "fearful" and ambitionless, just like your mate who has decided on medicine as a second choice, giving up her top crush cinema for finding it impossible.
I've always found it easy, like you and her. It's just that I'm too busy writing my biograph to waste my Time thinking about conquering it and you, worldly contesters. I pass. Just like you postpone Wisdom, I postpone you. Maybe one day, if I fall from Grace, becoming phony, reformatted to comply with the system. But I know myself, even in that situation, unless my memory is zero-filled, I'd be doing whatever it takes to get back up. Probably even erased I'd be giving "all" up and looking for something else again in the Backup real soon, since I couldn't bear to hear the word "love" for long without questioning its meaning. You despised my answers because you dig the easy ones, like, "love is love". It's not that you are compassionate, it's that the streets of Kensington are still where you belong.
You're going to be its hopeless resident until you start longing for the Medicine. You know "religion" is secondary to you; isn't that why you've chosen to be a laywoman? To be "free" to seek the knowledge without a Name? And when you get your degree, you won't prescribe to your patients the "magic bread" you dare not to despise, will you? You respect who wear those clothes, even if it's all fake like in a porn movie, because what really matters to you is your most "glamourous" lab coat. You don't need to know the facts and the Truth, you need to "study". Jesus knows He's no longer your most desired Teacher, that He's been replaced by one you met in college. So be a little decent and don't lie like your "father" or your "sister"; update your bio. You're so distracted that you haven't noticed that your teacher has a male name yet he is gay.
Her "entertainment" tips could help you have a big time in the swamp when you're trying to relax and think not about the "knowledge" that could get you the 4 full of zeroes in the bank. To her that doesn't matter, I mean, being homosexual; the big money matters, at least when she's thinking different, "serious", letting the casualness go and allowing the "lady" side of Margaret to blossom. She can show you how to love dicks. You could learn how to have any dick in the world hanging out with her; her bad vibe course is more effective than any witchcraft or law of attraction book you could ever read and practice. However, when the guy is really gay, you shouldn't get your hopes up. Her technique is guaranteed to work for burning sodomites only with "desire", you know, lovers of holes.