I have two options. Forget totally about maths, prepare for a B, or at worst a C.
Or i can mug myself to death. With my brain exploding in front of my face, with numerical symbols all over the place. White matter differentiating into grey.

I got a feeling i am taking option one. I will just do a few questions of each topic which i hate. And then face the test. I dont know. I am so...now. I dont want to go in with a heart and mind that is so discourage and bothered, disturbed. I need a break? I dont know...and how absurd... one of the things i want to do, is to skip church. For one week or two? Just disappear. Then return later. But what about responsibilities? At this point, you would think to yourself, would it have been better without being a leader?

Yeah maybe i have mood swings, how annoying, but its better to admit than not to.
I dont know myself. I am tired. And i wish i can just sit down, and stop running.
Wish i could have been there looking at the plates pile up. Taking those photos.
Let my mouth drop as i watch you eat on. I miss it...

What i think and feel seems so perfect, my plans seems so nicely mapped out. But i got a feeling everything is going down in crumbles. Like what happened today.

Why are my words so disjoint? Why doesnt it reflect anger? Hatred? I think i will write something not me...yeah taht would be interesting. But for...? Trying to be someone else, or something else, is never practical is it? Gosh of what rebellion i harbour.

Lets look for the stars again. I will be waiting.
Watch the sunset think of me...

And yes everything written is meant to be arbitrary. So readers will not know what happened instead how i feel. If you know, then i am telling you, you dont.

How horrifying, i forgot you for a few seconds, i dont want to lose those thoughts.
Memories that fades. Store them up please.
No memories dont vanish, they just settle down at the back of your head.

Option One...i might cry over my destiny later. I guess i keep crying over my destiny dont i?
Your destiny is your discomfort. - truth that cuts so deep. Yet the nerves were cut before the veins. So it doesnt hurt.

Like staring at an open wound and yet not feeling any pain.